You, cocked smile
and smirking eye
come down into my open
waiting like a teenaged sunbather
happy to risk the burn
You shadow me warm
with sentinel arms
my hands will not
rebel against you
both of us clinging
to this fragile ease
Tomorrow you return
to the gnawing thirst
lock me outside while
you fight those demons
eating at your skin
I return to the fullness
of poetry and fire-fed dreams
empty of your shadows
empty of skin-fueled
present tense
First published in Carnival Lit.
I’ve been sifting you for weeks
but there is no gold in your sediment
pebbles smooth against my tongue
I bed in your silver-grey sand
sleep in the warmth of your current
I keep losing daylight hours
forget my quest for real worth
I need to get up, get feet forward
find the strike to wealth me old
foolish river, with your glittering light
I won’t find gold in your sediment
First published in Carnival Lit.
It’s not enough that
we have a million things in common
that we can talk for hours
about our favorite bands
and Miyazaki movies like art
It’s not enough that
we agree philosophically
on religion and God
and an unknown purpose
that I respect your convictions
even if they seem ridiculous
It’s not enough that
I can be myself with you
a girl-child at 37
sullen or cynical
giddy and intentional
That I get you
when you see things
no one else does
when your voice drops low
I know what that means
It’s not enough that
we are nostalgic and sentimental
that we are adventurous
in the mundane things
that I just don’t want to go yet
that I feel at home with you
It’s not enough that
I have all the want in the world
when you don’t say
when you don’t show
what you want from me
First Published in Katenhatz (Bank Heavy Press).
Let’s go back
to when you hung
on my words like monkey bars
when you sighed the first time
you ever kissed me,
gave me lottery winning eyes
when you kissed me again
Go back before
my words hung
like bars around your cell
before you clenched
your teeth
at the sound
of my need
Go back when
you studied the curves
of my mouth
sent me to work
each morning
with a tongue
full of blessing
Go back before
every word
had to be measured
and weighed
before an honest response
could mean
I may never again see
the golden spokes
of your irises
Back to when
we were both
eager passengers
Back before
our feet were heavy
with hesitation
Back when
we knew nothing
Back before
we could not forget
First Published in Drunk Monkeys.
Sarah Thursday 