WE NAME THE TOTEMS WITH EVERY MORNING by Kelli Allen We say, If I dive deep into the ocean and find a camel, everything I know will cease to matter. This is how sleep comes. We listen and turn dancer tight into a curl against the bricks resisting the bed’s nightly push closer. Let’s pretend that the stories bind our bodies. Promise that we never expected familiarity, that when we like it dirty, there is an opening waiting to receive what we give to the maw. We won’t stay in our boxer shorts even in the summer, not when someone throws a shadow and reminds us nice touch, when we begin to sing all the names our histories remember, all the words that make us comfortable on the side of this road. Gyroscope Review - page 35 !