Tag: dysfunction

2014 · Poetry · The Unnamed Algorithm

Dust Universe

Sarah ThursdayLeave a comment

when sun falls in dim slants
through holes in thin curtains
you can see the universe of dust
they have not traveled here
but revealed by narrow sunbeams
in the quiet light of morning
suddenly, I am afraid to breathe
the enormity of it
billions of particles floating
hovering like microscopic gnats
when I see them swarming
I can’t let them in my lungs
molecules of dead skin and ash
lit up as thick as stars flickering
landing in my living room
I can’t tell anyone how
we are always swallowing
parts of each other
I have to keep it secret
so I open up the curtains wide
for ancient light to swallow
this exact moment in time
and deliver it to the past

First published in East Jasmine Review.

2014 · Poetry · The Unnamed Algorithm

The First Him

Sarah ThursdayLeave a comment

It’s home movies on a reel-to-reel.
Light is always dim, pouring in
from thin covered windows.
He is carpenter, framing houses.
Long days in the sun tan his skin,
make him sleep late on weekends.
We play Ambulance anytime I bump my head,
scrape my shin. He lifts me over his shoulders
and mocks sirens rushing hurried to hospitals.
He lays me down like a patient and makes me giggle,
fingertips under the arms, across the belly.
For seconds, I forget.
I am a laughing four-year-old unafraid.
Until I am not. Until the looming frame of him
scrapes ceilings, pulls in the weight of rooftops
down into the darkest room, windows covered thick.
He does not lock his door. I play the secret game
of Find the place he is not. Stay quiet enough
and he won’t see you close the door.
He will not call after you.
Scratches flicker across film spliced memories
as the reel hums, tick-tick-tick-tick-tick.

First appeared in East Jasmine Review.

2015 · Publications

Yellow Chair Review

Sarah ThursdayLeave a comment

yellow chair Very excited to have a poem published in the newest issue of Yellow Chair Review! “Oil-Black” is one about my grandfather I wrote shortly after his death last year. I had the hardest time setting on revisions for this poem, but decided it was time to send it out into the world. There are many fine poems in this issue, including one from my friend, Jeri Thompson. Enjoy!

2015 · Publications

On the Grid Zine Part 5

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The 5th poem on the site, On the Grid Zine, is “Smiling at Strangers“. It’s actually one I wrote a few years back. Sometimes you got to push yourself out of your comfort zone to make progress. In some ways, I’ve never looked back.

2015 · Publications

On the Grid Part 4

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My 4th poem, “How I Stopped Naming Lost Things“, on the new site, On the Grid Zine. Sometimes life gets you all turned around and you just live with your current state. Take a moment to read some other poems and stories on this lovely site about mental health.

2015 · Publications

On the Grid Part 3

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3rd poem on the new site, On the Grid Zine, all about mental health! I wrote “Base of My Spine” a few years ago, but the feeling still applies. My body and my mind in tension. Take a moment to read and look at the others!

2015 · Publications

On the Grid Part 2

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art by Lynn Azali

2nd poem up on On the Grid Zine! This one is “Colors for Bruising” and was one of my more recently written poems. I’m glad it found a home on a site for such an important topic as our mental health.

2015 · Publications

On the Grid Zine! Part 1

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Very excited to have the first of 5 poems, “Dancing with Damage“, posted on On the Grid Zine, a new site dedicated to mental health. Check out them out and send them poetry, essays, and stories about your mental health!

17 Poems Not About a Lover · 2010s · Conversations with Gravel · Poetry

How I Stopped Naming Lost Things

Sarah Thursday1 Comment

for my birthday

This is where I don’t know what’s next
this is where I get lost in the desert
forty years of circle wandering

This is where I try to fill the cracks
this is where I see how much I can fit
how many pages I can write
how many nights of alcohol
pushing limits where I thought I’d stop
the line I wouldn’t cross

This is where I close my eyes and lay back
in the thick sea salt floating
underneath stars I can never count
This is where I stop
naming anyone friend or lover

There is where I keep stirring
the increasing mess of me
dissolve the powder
pudding-thick and ready to serve

This is where I am the forest fire and
the arsonist and the fireman
mask wearing and sweating smoke

This is where the word you
is cut out in tiny rectangles
and collected in bags for confetti
where I forget what clocks I am watching
what timeline I had to follow
all the things called age appropriate

This is where I am done
and done and done knowing
that I ever knew

2015 · Publications

In-Flight Literary Magazine Issue # 3

Sarah ThursdayLeave a comment

paper-planeThe newest issue of In-flight Literary Magazine is out today! I have two very different poems up, “What I Mean When I Say My House Is Now a Park” and “Paint”. One is a memory of my young childhood house that has since been demolished and the other is a lyrical poem. There are many other fabulous poets, including my friend, Don Kingfisher Campbell. Take a few minutes and read a poem for the first day of National Poetry Month!