Mounting 

by Cynthia Allum 

I climb my pedestal, 
get up onto my high horse, 
slump my carcass over the hull, 
keep my head low. My scalp scrapes the sky. 

Remember at camp when you snuck into my lumber cabin, 
climbed up my bunk bed, onto my limber mattress, we laid 
two feet beneath the chalky ceiling, supine, side-by-side 
as though we were on a papyrus boat drifting down the 

Nile.

You were asleep when 
I reached for yours. 
You sprung up, your head 
hit the white limit. 

And I stayed silent, 
my eyes closed, 
curled up in feral position.

Cynthia Allum is a junior in the College of Arts and Science. She is major- ing in English and American Literature and minoring in Creative Writing. She enjoys writing inane blog posts and reading literary magazines, and currently writes for NYU Local. She is from New Jersey.