Another track from Anchors, “5:38”, is available to listen to on Soundcloud. This poem was also recently published in Carnival Lit Mag, Magic issue and will be included in All the Tiny Anchors, which will be available soon!
Category: All the Tiny Anchors
Cover of my book!
Pyrokinection
I’m very excited to have my poem “Honey” included in Pyrokinection. It is another one from my upcoming poetry book, All the Tiny Anchors.
Tic Toc Anthology
I am honored to have my poem, “Westwood Boulevard (Why I Can’t Go Back)” included in Tic Toc, an anthology about time. The editors asked “authors to let their minds drip through the hourglass…authors created a kaleidoscopic array of time tunnels for the reader to travel through. So take a moment, pick a door, allow yourself to fall into and through visions of past memories, revel in tangible interpretations of today, or leap light-years ahead of your own future.”
You can download a FREE PDF copy or buy a print copy from Amazon for less than ten bucks!
Sharon as Segue
We had a talk after our first real date
I used Sharon Olds’s Gold Cell as segue
poems of damage and fracture
told like a spy from war.
I needed you to know
enough to understand
enough to get why.
Before I shed my clothes
I had to untie those secrets
to lay them out across our laps.
Feet up on the coffee table
I had to look away as I always do
and tell you
how damaged I was
how broken my heart had been
before I ever saw it coming.
How it wouldn’t be personal
how it wouldn’t be about you
how I carried this weight all my life
how I didn’t know if I could rest it.
You sat stone quiet
arm across my shoulders
you kissed my hair
locking your knees under mine.
Originally published in Carnival: Black, White, and Coffee and also part of All the Tiny Anchors.
Plump Tomatoes
These are the kind of poems
they want us to write,
about black-red birds and the sky
and the plumpness of tomatoes
soft against your tongue,
how it relates to our humanity
and our connection to the eternal.
But I don’t relate to birds
and tomatoes (though I
will eat them endlessly)
do not keep me up at night.
When I am forced to flatten
the pages of my journal,
it’s the calluses on his fingers
how I want to scrape them
scratch his dead skin off
until he forgets me,
but he has already
forgotten me.
Last Hour of 37
Just before midnight, I lay under
the Palms Springs sky
on silver-blue foam in a
saltwater pool with the edge
of your tongue and curves
of your long fingers pulling
me towards your liberation
of my body from
the taut strings of
my bathing suit
around my neck.
First published in one sentence poems.
The Silence of Trains
“You fall in love
with someone who knows
the same silence as you”
–Daniel McGinn
I fell in love with the man
who knew the same silence—
the silence of trains up close
in roaring motion, the strength
is deafening, a lulling voice
Its constancy feels like comfort
I loved the man who knew
the silence of city lights
from hill tops at midnight
The stars blushing down
at Los Angeles sprawled out
limbs open wide
The silence of public spaces
after dark, after closing,
after all other souls
are empty from it
I fell in love with the man
whose tongue filled
with paper and sand,
whose throat I saw dancing,
telling secrets, whose hands—
those hands said things
out loud for the first time
I’d been listening for years
Hear it? The silence, it swallows me
Originally appeared on Cadence Collective.
Summer Drunk
Another track from my recording, Anchors, available on Soundcloud.
Summer Drunk
It’s the heat, it reeks of his smell
reminds me of the place under his collar
and edges of his long sleeves.
How the air was too thick for sleeping
how I was constantly intoxicated
with the hum of his voice.
I lay in the green sun reading
his books, breathing his fingerprints
heart beats between text replies
The blue sky kissed my shoulders
and thighs, grass ceilings always
bracing my body from ascension.
How I existed in the space
before you with me and without was
sleepwalking and summer drunk.
The heat hung like a red cloud
on my back and on my heels.
Here, the earth comes back
to this place around the sun
to break my sobriety
again and again.
Originally published in Lummox II: Place Anthology
Global Warming
New poem posted on The Gambler Mag: Global Warming. Send them a poem and take your chance!
Sarah Thursday 