by Renée Lepreau



Puffy as a pastry
out of summer’s oven,

mom rises
above the hospital bed

which displaced the dining room table
these last four months.

She escapes up the staircase
into the attic

but the roof traps her.

Quick, someone get some morphine
and with its jeweled edge

cut a hole
through to the sky.



Renée Lepreau has an MFA in creative writing from the University of Wisconsin–Madison. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Seneca Review, TYPO, Cream City, Southeast Review, and others. Previously she worked as a midwife and lactation consultant. She will begin a studio art MFA program at the University of California, Davis in the fall.

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