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the departed
Poetry

the departed

your departure has the weight of ash no longer carrying your fate, I return to my old shape days hold their same complexities but night has become startlingly simple – rucked sheets, wooden bed-frame – there’s no need to believe in anything else how is it that you ever fit inside these walls? inside this … Continue reading

Poetry

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while there is time, before light returns to nothing – –listen– the silence that arises following the wreck is our sound of goodbye we are both of us composed of calligraphies the other will never read © Sarah Whiteley Continue reading

morning realization
Poetry

morning realization

it has been a gift to lean into you to split the light between us, and place tentative names to movement but morning rises and corrects us some emptiness-es are just that – not sky after all, not expectation – realization blooms from the wrists, take it with you – it is my gift © … Continue reading

scarcely there
Poetry

scarcely there

you are scarcely there – solid only on those spare nights when you sleep beside me by day you fall apart – like bread in water or the clods of dry earth I strike from the roots of weeds I have come to tell you there are no new prayers, that what it is that … Continue reading

insomnia
Poetry

insomnia

craving stars, I crept down the crouching hallway, disturbing only moths seeking their own small allowance of light trees sleep, lowering their limbs by fractions as the day subsides, leaving only the incremental gestures of slumber I have had to explain often the peculiar edicts of insomnia, and how it does no good to seek … Continue reading

a poet’s levy
Poetry

a poet’s levy

certain books stay hidden – those in which loss and love exist without conclusion and at times I may crack them – draw new maps to old places, new creatures of known constellations, and let the moon out into the room once more, to rest on shoulders that can bear the additional gravity a tolerable … Continue reading

Poetry

what the day contains

brown drifts of coffee grounds, and the tappings of the black-capped chickadee finding rhythm with the tick-ticking of spring rain on new-green locust leaves the passing hours mold the morning into the firmer lines of day, tracing the flights of fugitive birds – red hawk, wren, house finch, crow, ubiquitous dust-winged sparrow shadows lazily skate … Continue reading

Poetry

some part of me with you

some part of me with you is never solid some bit never retains its perimeter it seethes, creates secrets of light and shadow the inconstant fore-edge of a storm some part of me with you shimmers uncertain seeps beyond the threshold of thin skin as if there were so much of you within me what … Continue reading

there are wiser things
Poetry

there are wiser things

take from them what you can – there are wiser things than those that carry discernible voices – down the street near the park, five cherries are marked with orange distorted by time and poor nourishment (it’s no surprise they’ve failed to thrive) and within this Spring’s feeble pink, parting unfurled and scattered come July, … Continue reading