SARAH CARLETON

★ ★ ★ ★

POETRY

Image by Huzeyfe Turan

Woo!

You’re my eyes-wide-open, my popped button,
my tumble-dried hoodie on a chilly day.

You’re the sun’s favorite joke, a punch line I keep forgetting,
a cackle cut loose at a wedding, or maybe

a back wind on a bike ride—you startle
storms of ibises into flight.

Every day you paint clouds saffron
and scatter amazement,

for you who spit shine my insights and water my inklings
are a Slinky boing, a pogo jump,

a parachute leap, a sky full of dandelion fuzz
sprung by wonder.

Grass, Pavilion

“Say something warm. Hello.” – Richard Hugo

You decide. Surprise me. The world
was tender as a new bruise till slate
clouds took over and made the boardwalk
kind to our bare feet and benches
no longer burn our thighs.
Out of the blue, a guy swings by
with buckets of catfish.
Whoever we voted for, we pause here
where the pekoe-steeped river
cups the park, its surface patterned
by the prick and ripple of ibis beaks.
The water blows to grey
and our sweaty foreheads dry as if blessed
by a gust of goodwill, like the day
we saw a firebush alive with bees.
The women we texted are juddering
their bikes over sod and almost here.
You decide. Surprise me.
We’ll watch the broad-wing
birds drift in midair.