Judith Skillman

Carried from one bed to the next,

deposited beneath covers, expected

to sleep, hounded and scorned

and teased, fed one tidbit and another

and talked about in front of the others,

abandoned to third person,

all from not sleeping, which is,

as they all know, disappearing—

kin to dying—missing out on

barbed jokes thrown to the four corners

of rooms, skies, and greens, the croquet set

in waiting, its colored balls hidden

in plastic. You, the one they want

gone, there all along with no way

to escape the sun hovering

behind blankets, the false animals

in fake fur, and your leash tied

to the end of the world.

Judith Skillman holds dual citizenship with Canada and the US and is the author of Came Home to Winter and other collections. She is the recipient of grants from Artist Trust & Academy of American Poets. Poems have appeared in Cimarron Review, Poetry, Zyzzyva, and We Refugees. She is a faculty member at Richard Hugo House in Seattle, WA. www.judithskillman.com

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