All In

poetry 0
Martin Vest


I dreamed of you
last night,
a dream you,
an almost you.
We were driving
in that old blue car
I used to have,
except that
it was green
in the dream,
and not as old.
We parked
at the beach
and made love
on the hood,
except it wasn’t
love we made,
but a dent,
about which
I created
such a fuss
that you,
almost you,
lifted the hammer
that appeared
from nowhere
in your hand
and pounded
a fist-sized hole
through the
dented place,
crying, Now
it’s love!

Martin Vest’s poetry has appeared in Slipstream, The New York Quarterly, The Limberlost Review, and elsewhere. He is a past winner of Rattle’s Neil Postman Award For Metaphor, and is a five-time Pushcart Prize nominee. He lives in Southeast Idaho.