Poetry by J.V. Foerster
Her wings are cut and then she is blamed for not knowing how to fly.”
Simone de beauvoir
I imagine my body
free from its bones
the wind my invisible sister
Free from waking up
and weighing myself
each morning to see what place
I have on the ground in
this world of obsession
to form and insolence.
I dreamed last night that birds
were flying at me and behind them
they left lines in the air.
Thin black lines to hang up my
desires or to dry out my regret.
I think they came to show
me that when the eye can no longer
find its place in the ordinary you
must sleep and dream another life.
J.V. Foerster has been published in Eclectica, Agnieszka’s Dowry, Red River Review, Midnight Mind, and many others. She was nominated in 2011 for a Pushcart for “Apple Girl” by Fox Chase Review. J.V. has work in the Rosemont College Press and Philadelphia Stories Anthology “50 Over 50: Celebrating Experienced and Emerging Women Writers.” She lives in Portland, Oregon.
