Sarah Bartlett


Daily Forecast

I stand in the doorway and wait for the storm
to pass. The structure is shaking.
Penned dogs howl, streets go still under
the shotgun of rain. I wait in the doorway.
I forget how to pray. I wish one of the crying
dogs was mine. I wish it would last longer,
that someone was standing on the other side.
Knock knock. Who's there: The clock's empty arms.


Memento Mori

Find me a priest, a glass of whiskey, a boat

to sail across the finish line, someone

to help bail the water out. Doors won't stay closed:

I see you on the other side looking back at me.

We wave. We float through walls, leave the taps running,

appear between sheets. I should perform an exorcism,

wrap your feet with chains and toss you overboard.

Ashes to ashes. I troll the surface of the water,

gathering what's left of you in my hands.


Hunger IV

The blossoms are
cheek-shaped. Each
small face bursts and
drops to the ground. 


Between The Lines

You are currently in the middle
of a clear cut. I lay awake wondering
what you are planning to build on your
allotted acre. A stone chimney, a porch,
a place for imagined dogs to run?
I look into the well you'll dig and see
the distant flicker of my face.
The stumps are pointing fingers:
(You) (I) (it's a cul de sac) (We both know
how) (to handle an axe).


Hunger (5)

The ground snaps its teeth:
our names the only thing
this beast learned to speak.


Ghost & Ghost

It’s unclear who is who in cases like this,
so I spread our shadows out on the ground.
I make a chalk drawing of you and lay
down inside, leave change in your chalk pockets,
include keys, and make sure to write
my number on the palm of your hand.

past simple home