PoetryIssue 04 | April 2009

Two poems by Sarah J. Sloat

On Stopping To Smell Perfume On the Way Home From Work

Do you remember Ecuador?

How our luggage burst like bulbs
from the underground cave
of the baggage claim?

A wrist circled in jade.

Have you ever licked rain from your fingers?
Imagine the drops falling faster.

Biofuel. Bioether. Bioephemeral.

Have you ever peeled moss off a stone,
then pressed it against you, inside out?

Dew, nutmeg and suede.

I’ve promised to stop on the way home
to feed the neighbor’s rabbits.
They are quiet, and have such cold noses.

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About the author

Sarah J. Sloat lives in Germany.

Read our current issue:


Two poems by Anne Babson
Vignette, Townhouse, 9 a.m. by Troy Cunio
Night Becomes Day Over the West by Megan Foley
Yukon River Aurora by D. B. Goman
Two Poems by David Havird
Cretan Love Letter by Emily Linstrom
Holland by Rick Mullin
Fear in Kenya by Kristina Pfleegor
The Lounge Lizard by Ed Shacklee
Two Poems by Sarah J. Sloat
Night Flight by Vicki Stannard
Koinonia Farms by Alina Stefanescu
Thessaloniki, Four a.m. by Anastasia Vassos
Imaginary Oceans by Jason Warren
Two Poems by F. J. Williams

Postcard prose

It’s Salty by Kelly Hill

Travel notes

Anchorage in the Great Land by Karen Benning
The Value of Small Money by Megan Hallinan
Screensaver by Sandra Larson
Thirty Cents by Tommy McAree
Gokarna by Kate McCahill
Going Places by Rachel Miller-Howard
Susanville CA: Notes From The Road by Susan Volchok