Mourning Routine: April
stretch towards the mountains.
coffee, black. fruit. a cigarette.
four books planted on my quilt
(I procrastinate like hell)
reluctant shower. a phone call
from Old Lover. wait ‘til last ring.
absorb bad energy. hear “I hate,
I want, I don’t, I need, my life”
have to go. please let me hang up.
cardigan. flats. twenty-five pound bag.
cry in the parking lot to our favorite
songs. eat half of lunch. sleep, again.
drone out echoes of other voices
both real and in my head. battlefield mind
Mourning Routine: September
stretch towards the city, arms like skyscrapers.
hold my favorite animal. answer a call, my favorite
person, first ring. engulf in that sleepy tone.
how did you sleep. how do you feel. but mostly
I LOVE YOU. swoon deeply over the phrase.
New Lover carries my whole heart –
read textbook, missing education. Worry
about employment, my horoscope, anxiety
itself sweeping through my veins, heavy.
coffee, almond milk. no cigarette. draw
New Lover’s deep-seated eyes. Walk briskly
through the nearby trail, kiss the water
gently as it trickles, like autumn. hairbrush,
toothbrush, a new day for a new life.
SARA K. SAGE is an east-coast based author who has been published in 8 other magazines. She specializes in experimental, free-verse work that’s heavy in emotion. She believes in the intensity and multiplicity of life and aims to heal trauma with her work.