Poetry by Sarah Little
timelines
on january 1, i start a new journal. it is ritual, done every year, first thing. i divide the pages into twelve segments, colour-code and alphabetize. this year, you are here. you need to be included. i’m filling in the moon phases – at least, the ones that are already known. i can’t quantify you though. i’m filling in anniversaries of astronomy, adding astrology for whimsy’s sake. i’m writing in star deaths and realize: you are too unpredictable. (should i leave you out then?) in the end, i track first the stars. chart their journey and add ours alongside. (in the pages, we follow along bodies celestial and earthly, let our story develop under the watchful eyes of the sun and moon) and one day, i make a promise in the name of astronomy: we will let our story progress as far as the skies will permit. |
markers
we track astronomy, as if it holds all the answers to my every question. at weekends we pack up the car, just a few clothes and books. drive out to the countryside. (we are city-dwellers and the night sky is too polluted) there’s coffee in flasks and we stargaze. you teach me every constellation you can find. i record them all on my phone, copy into a notebook. call it a reference guide. later i fill in a calendar, write in everything i learn. sign it, date it and call it a day. (later, you steal the book, make your annotations and close off a new chapter.) |
Sarah Little is a poet-storyteller. When she isn’t conjuring new tales or trying to keep pace with her to-create list she blogs, knits, and sometimes goes looking for shenanigans. Her work has appeared in Cold Coffee Stand, Twisted Sister, and Halo Literary Magazine, among others. Her first poetry chapbook, Tiny Moments, was released in April 2017. She can be found on Twitter, @tuckedinacorner or blogging at https://tuckedintoacorner.wordpress.com/