God Filled the Earth With Tigers

Submitted by Sarah on Thu, 10/25/2012 - 23:00

God filled the earth with tigers;
men and beasts warring for blood.
He painted them with warning
signs—what scarlet spots! …In God
we do not doubt; God filled the

earth with tigers.

The Father blessed his daughters
in the order of His Good
Son, that we might all know good
and evil. And still we choose
sore fruit. God filled the earth with

tigers.

The spirit’s rushing waters
cannot stop Missouri silt
from covering the sins of
generations. What are we,
haunching here? God filled the earth

with tigers.

And you; somehow there were no

Heavy

Submitted by Sarah on Thu, 10/25/2012 - 22:59

It’s like my blood grew heavy
as you took your taillights
down the road
Just as the sun
crested the
Tetons.

I see them where I lay feeling
the warmth of your pillow,
smelling the scent
of your soap—

peppermint, for clarity. I am
clean. I am refreshed. I
want for nothing, but
the new day weighs
Heavy on me.

Rivers

Submitted by Sarah on Sat, 10/20/2012 - 13:02

A (rough) essay about rivers, nightmares, honeymoons & life in general, over on my personal blog.
http://nosurf.blogspot.com/2012/10/rivers.html

3 am

Submitted by Sarah on Sat, 10/20/2012 - 08:55

Long after the spirit has
gone to bed, I lie still. My
bones are tight. My neck creaks
as I turn my cooler cheek
to the pillow.

There you are, outlined in
soft grey light. Your shape—
and are you real? My hand spreads;
will it all fall against an
empty blanket?

A siren wails. I wait.
It grows louder; I watch for
you to stir … my breathing eases
with the slow stretch of your arm
in the winding cloth.

Seas of Blood and Glass

Submitted by Sarah on Mon, 10/15/2012 - 18:08

I try to turn my mind, but my head is
sleeping. A headless body, mine; all
gut and bile—what I might turn,
I cannot turn in the full bath of
moonlight shining on the quiet bay.

There is no wind for me to sail through
reddened waves. What I might know,
I lost on shore. What I feel is buried in
the cramp that seizes me, lone bather
in the middle of a bay of glass.

My face is wet. My eyes find the moon;
it is cold, too. My body floats without me—
outspread limbs. Who might look down
on me? Who might see my nakedness,
in these seas of blood and glass?

In the Night

Submitted by Sarah on Sat, 10/13/2012 - 21:07

We slumber heavy in the night
so long as hills are bare and white
and what is real, is pressing. What
can you do but answer. What can
you do but take my jaw in hand
and answer. And what can I, but

know you while night visions press us, hot
in our down blanket. What cannot
be spoken, we will speak with night
still resting on us—your air
on me, and my warm shoulder bare
to you—real, real as day is light

until we wake in morning’s cold,
when mountains, rimming in the gold
of cresting sun, can no more be
deferred. What can we do but rise...

My poetry-related headaches

Submitted by Sarah on Sat, 10/13/2012 - 21:01

When I wrote in journals as a kid, most of what I wrote was not real. I wrote down stories, I wrote about the games my sisters and I made up of imaginary worlds and characters. And when I wrote what was real, it was mostly in the form of poetry. I think I could argue I've been a poet my whole life.

Book Signing at Brigham Young University-Idaho

Submitted by Sarah on Mon, 07/23/2012 - 07:05

I will be signing copies of Lightning Tree at the BYU Idaho bookstore during education week. July 27 (Friday) and July 28th (Saturday) from 11:00-2:00. Hope to see you there!

New Rewriting Methods

Submitted by Sarah on Thu, 06/07/2012 - 13:03

So, for some reasons it might be impolitic to discuss here, I've realized I really need to revamp my writing. (holy cow, read that sentence... a nice, unintentional, and somewhat annoying alliteration).

Marathon: the grand finish

Submitted by Sarah on Tue, 06/05/2012 - 00:23

Just felt a need to come here at 12:21 and say that I have put the last period on the last sentence in the last paragraph of Marathon. Tomorrow I'll be starting all over again to go through and fix and edit and rewrite, but it feels really nice to switch hats just for a bit from creative artiste beret to editing visor. This story took my emotions (and for the last week, my life) by storm, and it feels so great to be done and have it in front of me.

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