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New Nightly Ritual
by Seth Berg
Beneath my pillow,
I place a tuning fork
for the fishes who lip my skull,
the small ocean in my occiput.
The tone descends, dissipates
into a strange, deep glow.
Open-eyed, the fishes
sleep in my sleep,
spit bubbles at my soft spot,
gargle brain fluid like mouthwash.
The tone glows wild.
I am somewhere between song
and head-on collision
in which rib punctures lung
and the fishes breathe for me.
When I make it through the night,
I place tiny fish treats,
dessert-flavored algae
and succulent worms
beneath my pillow
and I fall asleep
thanking them quietly,
grinding my teeth
like a clown fish
in a straight jacket..
Seth Berg holds an MFA in poetry from Bowling Green State University, where he served on the senior editorial staff of Mid-American Review. He is currently finalizing a move to Minneapolis where he will be artist-in-residence at Vesper College. He is an active stained glass artist and painter as well. Recent poems can be found in Connecticut Review, Lake Effect, Chiron Review, 13th Warrior Review, and Stitches.
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