A Night’s Movement

The white crane of platitude swooped from the sky. Greetings to the white gowns and colonial

watchmen below. Wistful dreams sleep in featherbeds and an unseen ghost alongside. They

both squeeze yeasty grapes into flour and pile bread in my arms. I, later, cracked the bread

and heard whistles. They had traveled far, harvesting ears as they went. Now, sounding thin,

they crawled along the crust, leaving behind the dense, yet evaporative crumb. I think I

became something else, because I could no longer hear the trees, the dreams, the ghosts, the

grapes, or the bread. I don’t wake here, but also, I don’t sleep. 

Stephanie Plummer uses writing and sculpture to explore memory, happenstance, change and the humans caught in the middle. Based in Omaha, Nebraska, Stephanie is a former mentee of the 7 Doctors Project, a program that provides mentorship to aspiring writers. She is a passionate arts administrator and conversationalist who loves croissants, falsettos and her family.

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