Author: sarah
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offerings
tumult in the way severed branches press against glass. the scratch greets your body, as it jolts and wanes in dreams. we hover in a kitchen, banishing the cracks in linoleum to the corners that escape light. we pour black coffee down our throats. you read Wilde as I read C. D. Wright. I see…
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boxes
in the mudroom, differentboxes exist, some empty some cut into slatssome folded to rest one contains paper withnumbers and conversations on weight, how muchto see into your body, to measurethe malign, how much for comfortcare, pulsing feel- good throughyour veins and how heavyyour heart without therespirator, how did the soulbreathe, in a metallic blue box,…
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“shadows” — all of the light of all of our selves, all at once
(published through Bottlecap Press 2024) I feel like I’m shouting into the void a lot, lately. it’s been years since I’ve posted here. nevertheless, I’m floored to share my (new and first!!) poetry chapbook with you guys. ya’ll were always so supportive when I wrote daily, raw and often weird posts, and I’ve truly and…
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:in hollows
lapsing with morningwe subsist on gaps and fissures you, idle in the doorwaysay you’re too porous I decide to laze elsewherethere are raw holes in the cupboards but I can’t quite fitI could wrestle with space under the bed but it’s busywith broken-down boxes in the closet’s nooksbetween coats I command hooks to housemy flesh…