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/