Found poetry by Sarah Ghoshal
Moonlight
Monochromatic kiss, eyes open by a longing to find my body. Riveted, I come home, close something, ask, "You remember?" (Years ago, I was barely awake, my arms a happy accident over rough seas. I begin to glow, afraid to exhale. The galaxy smiles.) Source: Niffenegger, Audrey. The Time Traveler’s Wife. Harcourt, 2003. pp. 377-381. |
The Moon in Africa
Our history is all heat and even flame, reaction in silence, uncharacteristic madness, my little house and my bed, this force connected to my own rights to alchemy. When the time came, the earth listened to dreams, realized loneliness in the cinders. Source: Rice, Anne. The Vampire Lestat. New York: Random House, 1985. pp. 341- 343. |
Sarah Ghoshal is a writer, professor, mommy, wife, feminist, binder, runner, and persister. Her work can be found in Reunion: The Dallas Review, Cream City Review, The Moon Magazine, and Mom Egg Review, among others. She is a Best of the Net nominee and has two chapbooks, Changing the Grid and The Pine Tree Experiment. She lives in New Jersey.
|