Sleep Patterns

by Gabrielle faith williams

Outside a store open late
there was a lemon tree.
But not the whole tree.
It had blood fruits instead
of lemons. This is where
I danced w/ my sister.
She told me this is where
all things glow. But back
then I called her by another
name. She said this tree
had too many flowers so
we renamed it the hush
tree. This meant something
to someone. On Saturday
she tells me I can keep my
wisdom teeth. I settle for
water w/ no paddle. Sometimes
she looks like a gun from the
inside. Her small spaces, her
skull, etc, etc, they glow. I said
someone died. After that people
stopped bathing, stopped
brushing their hair. Everyone's
fingernails grew to enormous lengths. 


Gabrielle reads "Sleep Patterns"


Gabrielle Faith Williams received a BA in poetry from Columbia College. Recently she has been accepted at The University of Nevada, Las Vegas for an MFA in Poetry. She was a 2013 Pushcart Prize nominee. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in LEVELER, Fairy Tale Review, Kind of a Hurricane Press, and Columbia Poetry Review.