Thursday, June 18, 2020

Sara Marie Nason : Three poems







when i tell stories of my childhood
you laugh at appropriate moments
until you don't.

you don't have the right eyes for pity.
creases form above your cheekbones
& when you tense up like that
you're so much harder to kiss.

my childhood is not a sob story
in need of divine sympathy;
my life was a bomb exploding shrapnel
& the pieces live under my skin.

i don't need you
coming in with a scalpel
to remove what's fused to bone.



monologue

there is a doe-eyed sunset in her mind. what invites her speaks in young-tongue; lifts her off the ground. it thinks in waves:

the chains on the swing were always cold.
too cold for mittens,
too cold for skin.
the skin is hidden
in the cold.
the cold hides the skin.
her skin grows feathers.
her skin grows mouths
left agape.
her skin molts.
her skin is sandpaper,
gives papercuts.
her skin is soft.
is soft and warm.
her skin is lit,
is hot to touch.
her skin burns.
her skin rots -


when she comes back from sea.



i'm tired (but) i'm so lucky (but) i'm tired

all i can do is attend another protest speak at another panel give another interview plan another event lunch and learn series trivia night holding my second-hand cardboard sign made with dried out sharpie on the back of a dominios pizza box dug out from behind my couch for the third time this winter while my fingers freeze because if i wear gloves the chill will slip the square out from between my fingers & drown it in white & i’ll have to make another another another. queer youth are freezing in urbans street after being spit out of their house like phlegm from a cold, men in tailored suits face no consequences for the deaths they cause & we’re all chronically living on the edge of a wind gust: hurricane-ready.

& i think maybe it's not that we want to die it's not that we want to die it's not that we want to die-

it's just that we're so goddamned tired.






Sara Marie Nason (they/them) is a queer, agender alumni from St. Thomas University. They are the two-time recipient of the STU Robert Clayton Casto prize for poetry, and have been published in a variety of periodicals, including the Feels Zine. Along with being a semi-active poet, Sara is also an avid pun collector, and an unabashedly angry activist.