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.

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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.