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Poetry

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thinking of those days behind the wheel, cat stretched across the dash, exemption stretched out along straight, gray highways trying now not to swallow that hook, though lately it seems the city hates me, shoves me toward her swilled-to-the-gill gutters back then, there was the bag kept in the back and it didn’t matter that … Continue reading

the waiting
Poetry

the waiting

the waiting creeps up from feet, passes hips, submerges wrists in slippery uncertainty naturally, the ear strains to catch the subtle shift of air that marks departure no one ever sings through the smoke of staying – love and smoke both only ever go sometimes you get so caught up in the leaving, all kisses … Continue reading

what has been lost
Poetry

what has been lost

love remaining half-asked, with an exile’s hunger, what have you lost? smoke never stops moving, alters nothing, and leaves irretrievably when exactly does time distill us down to fire? down to accumulated passion? at what point have we traded the marked directions of known constellations for the possible light of far, unseen stars? I carry … Continue reading

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