Terror to the Tune of “I Think We’re Alone Now”

The gleaners have come and and gone. Cut stems
in the field split under our steps and we are satisfied
with such noise—good land yielded to graveyard
when we gave up our lucid dreams. Sleep is a fallow
investment at best, the shallow way of changing colour,
but we thrash in the depths because we think waking
is an upward motion. We sweat heartbeats no matter
how many farmers tell us: the final spasm
before drowning is a hypnic twitch, a collective
larynx, straining to sing the whole damn song.

Originally from rural Alberta, Canada, K.T. Billey’s VULGAR MECHANICS is currently a semi-finalist for the 2015 Pamet River Prize from YESYES books. She was recently an Undergraduate Teaching Fellow in Poetry at Columbia University and her poems have appeared in CutBank, The New Orleans Review, Phantom Limb, Poor Claudia, and others. She translates from Spanish and Icelandic, is an Assistant Editor for Asymptote and a Girls Write Now mentor. Say hi at www.ktbilley.com.