Pamela Miller

is a Chicago writer who has published four books of poetry, most recently Miss Unthinkable (Mayapple Press). Her work has recently appeared in RHINO, Nixes Mate Review, Gyroscope Review, After Hours, MAYDAY, Peacock Journal, and the anthology New Poetry From the Midwest (New American Press). 


The Goddess Visits Me In A Dream And Orders Me To Join The Resistance

She glides toward me on feet of smoke,
a bearded lady with a filigreed hairdo
but no head.

She stands beside my bed like a baobab tree,
waving her arms against a backdrop
of roiling sky.

She pummels my breasts to get my attention,
her insistent fists like clattering maracas
studded with stones.

She implants a miniature galleon in my spine,
then keelhauls the captain and drowns
the pleading crew.

I try to ask, “What do you want with me?”
but she flings my voice over the precipice
like a javelin.

She yells, “Poets are breaking evil’s knees
but you’re just planting portulaca!
Do your job!”

I snap awake
clutching lightning to my chest,
my armored legs striding, striding, striding