3 poems from Julie Stevens : Playing Dead, Hindsight, Sea Legs

Playing Dead

The last time you saw me I was dead.
Clowning with ghosts, up to no good
in my head, where nothing goes wrong.

Not out there, sick and lonely
trying to make myself heard,
trying to switch on this damn light
clinging to the side.

The world that wants me is in here,
where the dead can live.

Not out there, sick and lonely
where eyes let me down,
where you let me down
never seeing past my smiles.

The world that wants me is in here,
where the dead can live.

The trees know I’m there
letting me lean on their posts,
the birds know I’m there
filling sadness with song.

The dead know I’m there
waiting to strangle your fun. 


I didn’t get the main part in the audition.
I couldn’t keep my balance like you did
tapping in circles. I think it started then. 
I never reached the end of that final, 
but reared up after take-off, holding the pain 
in one scorched leg. This could have been a sign. 
I wasn’t lifting those legs to pedal hard, 
letting that hill roll higher than me.
Was that it? I failed to reach those piano
keys, hand spreading no further than a
slice of bread. I couldn’t pick that up either.

Sea Legs

I saw them falling − 
two legs thrown from the cliff of medicine,
one final sprint to chase the sea.

I knew these waves −
the rise and fall of a body
only to drown far too early.

They took my future,
drenched my way forward,
anchored me to this last race.

Bloated and thrashed
I lay on the sea bed,
swallowing calls for help.

Wolfpack Contributor: Julie Stevens
A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Julie Stevens


By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1


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