Today, I am soft, weak; a shell less hermit crab, You’re a seagull, beak snatching, eyes pitch and cold. Tomorrow, I will be that seabird, air-lifted, arrogant, Tomorrow is years away, but my strength is loyal, Shrieking back like cicadas just when I’ve forgotten, So, today, I say nothing, ask nothing, Nothing, nothing, Today, I say nothing. – Sara…
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My Muse is a Bastard
I wish you wouldn’t insist on waking me Early every morning, fingers in my hair, Sweet words on your lips An inch from my ear. I rise from bed, drunk, Full, ripe, words ready to spill forth; Yet, as soon as pen touches paper, They lighten, transform to cotton candy. And melt away gently in the rain, Leave me…
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Slam Poem
I’ve tried to write Succinctly, brutally, Vitally, seductively, But apparently, “Poetry” simply means Writing Like This – Sara Myriad, 2020
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Farewell to Summer
When my grandpa died, soon after my grandma, I drove up north with my husband, Thinking about an ice cream shop Where children sat and ordered real sodas That melted sticky sickly-sweet with ice cream. Of antique shops with names like Carousel, Matched by charming interiors. Or the flea market Only open on weekends, But I had all the…
