Sometimes when my love and I lay senseless
in the woolpack of sleep, I recall the coma: nebulous cloud
of ice and dust sublimating around the nucleus of a comet--
and it becomes the fuzz of a workday burned up in commuter traffic
or lost in the Oort Cloud of mindless meetings. When my partner
steps out for work, I get a twinge of old losses. Then comes
the plush feeling of domesticity, that infinite fish turning inside me.
On the same night as the Charleston Church Shooting,
I listen to a scientist’s recording of a plant dying of thirst.
It sounds like the first drops of rain striking an air conditioner,
then a torrential downpour into nothingness. In America, it’s possible
for a white supremacist to sit in a prayer meeting for an hour
before murdering nine black parishioners. The living ask,
Where do we go to get free? Where do we go to live?*
The human heart weighs the same as a can of Coke.
*Quoted from Jessica Lynne and DeLana R.A. Dameron's interview at Arts.Black, the home of art criticism from Black Perspectives
When I talk of incompatible elements, I mean before Gameboys
and battery lust, I was just a particle tracing a coal miner’s
parted lip. Slender 0.1 dusting in the Earth’s Crust--
can you dig it? Now I’m the blue and green phosphors
in Miley Cyrus’s genderqueer color television. No we can’t stop.
No we won’t stop, electroplating, with abandon.
SARAH SALA is a native Michigander with an MFA in poetry from New York University. Her poem "Hydrogen" was recently featured in the "Elements" episode of NPR's hit show Radio Lab in collaboration with Emotive Fruition. The Ghost Assembly Line, her first chapbook, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press in 2016. She teaches college writing and lives in Manhattan. You can visit her at sarahsala.com.
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Issue 8 Playlist