23 April 2014

Day Twenty-Three: April 23


(Say yes.)


In celebration of National Poetry Month, I've taken on the Poem-a-Day Challenge. Thirty poems in thirty days. Yeeouch! Please visit my new website at sarahdohrmann.com for more info, news, events, and blah di blah blah. Thanks, and check back for more poems!

Day Twenty-Two: April 22

Drawing © Katrina van Grouw
The Unfeathered Bird
It was only a dream of a baby bird,
its delicate bird bones curled tight,
the size of a pinkie finger's tip,
wanting so bad to get born to
open its wings, to open its throat
to receive. Look in your book of
birds if you have forgotten the
inner-workings of delicate. Words
don't matter when it comes to birds.
Stop using them. You can pile all
you like or even dole them out bit
by bit in any accent you've acquired,
words will only form a mound that
clogs flight, until poems that cast
caw haven't magic. That dream's
wings are fossils now, folded.


In celebration of National Poetry Month, I've taken on the Poem-a-Day Challenge. Thirty poems in thirty days. Yeeouch! Please visit my new website at sarahdohrmann.com for more info, news, events, and blah di blah blah. Thanks, and check back for more poems!

21 April 2014

Day Twenty-One: April 21

woman with a black eye

you fainted and fell on your face less than two
weeks ago; you lay on the floor thinking, "this
will pass," and it has, though still there is the
black and blue eye, less yellow than before.
people on the train still look at you sideways,
wondering if you aren't one of those women
they should pity and push away, pity and
push away, love and pity and push push


In celebration of National Poetry Month, I've taken on the Poem-a-Day Challenge. Thirty poems in thirty days. Yeeouch! Please visit my new website at sarahdohrmann.com for more info, news, events, and blah di blah blah. Thanks, and check back for more poems!

20 April 2014

Day Twenty: April 20



Easter Sunday

On this day,
Christ came again—
a cause for

celebration, though its
meaning never really
landed, like the

"children are starving
in China" tactic,
something that was

supposed to be
significant and bear
effect, but didn't,

raised as I
was by folks
who went to

church out of
obligation, not whole-
hog belief—egg

coloring, egg hunts,
hey what's up
with that rabbit?

But I love
Easter, especially its
inherent hope, and

I put on
a pretty dress
and vintage heels

and even wear
a flower in
my hair for

Easter Sunday service
at a church
whose address I

have to look
up before I
leave my house.

Everyone seems happy
and I kneel
and put my

hands in solemn
tent formation to
talk to God

(in my head),
thank Him for
being Him and

ask for peace and
unity, and to
bless my parents

and my sisters
and their kids,
and to help

me to finally
quit smoking and
if maybe He

could help me
understand what the
fuck I'm doing

with my life,
and wouldn't it
be nice if

for once came
along a good
man? And I

pray for the
poor and for
my own salvation,

of course, that
I start to
really believe,

I mean, I
want Easter to
mean something, mean

something more than
a pretty dress
(I want so

much to mean
more than a
pretty dress)—

hope springs eternal

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I've taken on the Poem-a-Day Challenge. Thirty poems in thirty days. Yeeouch! Please visit my new website at sarahdohrmann.com for more info, news, events, and blah di blah blah. Thanks, and check back for more poems!

Day Nineteen: April 19


Hello Love

hello love
my old friend
sure is good
to see you again

here on this wide-
open road we sowed
fulla holes
I've felt empty

I really thought I
could not care
I really thought that
I could not care

It's been lonely
out here under
this sycamore tree
off on this side

road, the one we
pulled off onto
to make love in
quiet where the

flies buzzed and
I swatted and
you brought that
bottle of wine

and we drank in
a meadow on a
moon of a planet
that never existed

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I've taken on the Poem-a-Day Challenge. Thirty poems in thirty days. Yeeouch! Please visit my new website at sarahdohrmann.com for more info, news, events, and blah di blah blah. Thanks, and check back for more poems!

Day Eighteen: April 18

Interior Summer

Inside me

all the windows are wide open,
there's a breeze coming in from
the porch where a magazine
sits unread on a whicker side table,

and there's a cob of yellow sweet
corn in the kitchen, just picked and
husked, and made sweet by heat,
made sweet by this heavy wet

mm, this swimming pool with its
floatie thing that you can doze upon
has a cup holder for your beer and
your beer has a cozy to stay cold

and we sleep naked inside
a fitful sleep awake to
the slightest breeze that comes
to cool our netherparts as we

pull our heavy bodies toward
one another because inside me
is that rush, that rush of summer
alive alive inside, where even

mosquitoes are allowed,
because let's face it—
summer ain't summer
without buzz without bite

without itch

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I've taken on the Poem-a-Day Challenge. Thirty poems in thirty days. Yeeouch! Please visit my new website at sarahdohrmann.com for more info, news, events, and blah di blah blah. Thanks, and check back for more poems!

17 April 2014

Day Seventeen: April 17

hardly a drop inside these
tired bones

when just this morning out
came nectar

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I've taken on the Poem-a-Day Challenge. Thirty poems in thirty days. Yeeouch! Please visit my new website at sarahdohrmann.com for more info, news, events, and blah di blah blah. Thanks, and check back for more poems!