Things Impossible to Swallow • poems by Pamela Garvey • number 24 in the 2River Chapbook Series • 2River St. Jude's Nursing Home I stole. From the stash. Roamed hallways half-baked, dressed receding in a fog of rounds. My shoes floated along floors. Arms worked like wands. spoonfuls of puddings she slipped in her pockets during dinner into howling meds she’d otherwise hide under her tongue, then spit See the bugs, she said in her smoker’s voice as she pointed my hand, pumping it like a blood pressure gauge. who if she could have uttered words might have woven her own conspiracy theories: me
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