In the Can

Climbing into the enormous RV at the fair,
I hear the happy salesman trumpet luxury
camping, a shower and real bed off the ground!

He doesn’t know the years I slogged
in single-wides, sprinted from corrugation—
the insistent blast of tornado sirens,
wreckage after earthquake, taking turns
to walk down the hallway.

History wobbles in eight-millimeter movies,
countless movements chopped with glimmer.

I want to press toes into my dozing sister’s
upper-bunk mattress, lift her small corpse
through darkness toward the aluminum sky.

Keli Osborn lives and writes in Oregon, where she works with arts, literacy, and pro-democracy organizations after a career in local government. Her poems have appeared in various journals and anthologies, and her chapbook, The Never-Were, was published by dancing girl press in December 2025.