By Ruth A.M.
I hit my head on the headboard and my brain flew out, bounced off the mattress, rolled down to the bottom of my bed into the infernal pit of Pandemonium, wheeling, bumping on demons’ feet like a marble, knocked down a few pillars, rebel angels caught it and poked it with bobby pins; a goblin bit the gray matter like a piece of tofu and vomited it out down a lint hill, left it out in the open, filthy ants walking through its grooves, they carried it to the shore, left it floating in the lake of fire, sunk down the sewer, made its way to Satan’s bath. The devil grabbed it, rested the brain on his lap like a sphynx; it left a viscous print. Satan grossed out and threw my brain back down the bottomless abyss
now my moth-eaten brain is waiting for me to pick it up next to some old black licorice.
Ruth A.M is a poet and editor. She has an MFA from Brigham Young University and currently works as Poetry Editor for Soft Union. Some of her most recent works will be published in the upcoming Deseret Magazine and Poets.org. Her works explore themes such as time, the absurd, surrealism, human anatomy, memory, and experimental forms of verse. Ruth lives in Provo, Utah, but she grew up in Mexico City.