Bio Note: I live in New York City and divide my time between poetry and painting. These poems are from Iridescent Guest, published this year by Deerbrook Editions. I have published 5 other collections and will be happy to tell you about them if you ask.
The Moon Spins Away from the Earth...
at the rate of 3.78cm per year Crossing Central Park, a trainer stops and lets his husky lick salt from his fingers. The badge pinned to her halter says he’s teaching her to be a Helper. Wide front paws lie side by side on the Great Lawn. She’s not full-grown but she is wise, aloof from me and other passers-by. I hope her future owner relishes the luster of her silver coat, the gleam of amber in her lake-blue eyes, not that a husky minds if her invalid is blind, or deprived, by improvised explosive, of hands, feet, face, or mind. Her name is Artemis, like the Goddess. She will help a human move more nimbly through this wounded place while the Moon, the Moon, forgets its name as it travels into space.
Rock, Paper, and Broom
A sweeper gathers coins from the floor of the fountain. The Ocean God looks on, glad to have more space for water, less for wishes gathered before dawn and given to the poor of Rome. A rabbi pries with a broom slips of paper from the Western Wall, which has no need for paper as mortar. What about the prayers drawn from a pilgrim’s soul and tucked between the stones? Too holy for the poor, they are buried beside worn siddurs and scriptures. My own paper wish was whisked away by a sweeper who told me to visit the Wall and pray with the women. When Beauty and Joy were mentioned in the poem ha-Shem wouldn’t listen. The words wouldn’t come. They needed to be changed and chanted like a psalm.
Hummingbird, Flower, Friend
“The flower began as a plea and ended as a phenomenon.” Ferris Jabr, The New York Times His slim tongue sips from secret pools underneath the petals. Iridescent Guest and Host, together , resemble a single multicolored flower— Beija-flor! —until the honey-drunk, pollen-powdered Visitor flies off on another errand. You and I like branch and vine are intertwined for reasons I refuse to explain.
©2020 Sarah White
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