h o m e........

p a s t   i s s u e s....

s u b m i s s i o n s....

l i n k s

SARAH GORHAM

AFTER PINDAR

Sarah of sear which is burning, and of Ra, eye that rises phoenix-like 
each morning. Sarah like saracen or sarakenos, Eastern god of sunrise. 
Sarah of seer and of rah rah rah, who saw through with her golden 
eye, and applauded. Sarah the queen, sherratu, that is, she ruled, as in 
you rule, dude, but not without fear. Sarah close to sehr, German for 
very, as in exaggerated, and of hreaw or raw, that is, tender-uncooked- 
thick-blooded-thin-skinned. A sound like sarà, from the Italian Che 
sarà, sara, though she dislikes inaction. Sarah a toiler, a queen in 
contemplation of unsightly things, such as the earth cast in shadow, 
or frost, or herself, singed. 

WHEN WE WERE GOOD WE WERE

precise, mindful of our tools.
Spent more time sharpening than making the cut. 
Made wind chimes from sewing needles
and laid the broken ones gently to rest 
in pillboxes. Without birds and their
thread-like courses, trees, we believed, 
might float upwards. We tied little silk knots 
to measure our way. Scoured the dirty parts
with lemons and gardenia spray. 
When we were bad, we were extravagant
like cruise ships through a canal.
We improvised, lied, crayoned 
all over each other. We lost knives
or left them to rust, stepped on discarded needles
and blamed someone else.
Birds scolded from above as our dog 
went rolling, rolling, rolling in horseshit. 
It felt so good, so incredibly green.