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!

16 April 2014

Day Sixteen: April 16

Elegy to My Former Self

You were small, so you
didn't know better. So much
depended on your

smile. If you hadn't
hid what you really felt, your
father's world would have

collapsed. It's okay.
There's so much to be made from
scrap. Start from anywhere.

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!


15 April 2014

Day Fifteen: April 15


Missed Connections

Eyes met on 7 train
Subway eclipse conversation
Asian girl with black pants
You asked if I needed a wife
YOU=frosted blonde Starbucks
mom Corsican senior who
i met in the Village you
didn't call All time need
sex 3rd floor
"hey"

we worked together...
kind of

You took Zumba class
"Lady in Beige" I am
looking for Helen A
beautiful girl at Shake
Shack Petite Latina on
E train Earth Angel Do
You Feel The Same?
Miriam of Acropolis
Gardens Gorgeous Goth
on N line We met at a
sacred place

Red-haired girl!!! Love
Actually (sucks) I
wimped out You're a
total bitch You caught
me masturbating JUST
A THOUGHT: you
read socialism history
nice sista huge sexxxy
ass came into Amy
Girl, where'd you go?

Lost my soul mate the
smile the blue eyes Petite
Indian girl with gray
TeddyMae Q train
beauty Cupcake on the
L Saw u and still do
For when I can't sleep
at night Why'd you leave
Our Jazz Warrior's Struggle
when did things change?
U appreciated me

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!

*Art © Sophie Blackall "Missed Connections"

Day Fourteen: April 14

Another One for You

This is another poem for you.
It's about my black eye (sort
of) but first I'd like to mention
Iowa and my dad and my step-
mom and their new puppy and
the rib eye steak I ate tonight
and this morning's snowfall and
the four Goodwill stores I've
visited in the last three days and
how I fell—no, collapsed, really—
in my living room back in Brooklyn
before I had to board a plane to
come to Iowa. But I won't get into
all that stuff because quotidian talk
bores you, and that's never been
the part you wanted me to play—
the everyday.

Here, love, this is for you: I
keep remembering lately how
we used to say that thing about
the ER, that if one of us got hurt
and we had to go to the ER,
we'd want the other to be
the one who was called. We'd
want to open our eyes from the
gurney of our terrifying ordeal
to see the other; you me, me you.
Remember that? That was kind
of a weird thing to say. I think
now it was our way of saying how
we mattered to the other. I remember
fantasizing that I'd get hit by a car
while on my bike and I'd reach to
the nurse's badge dangling in my
broken face to say, "Here's the number
to call." I had it memorized. She'd
dial the number and you'd rush to
see me, and I mattered.

A few days ago I collapsed or
fainted or I'm not sure what happened
except that my face made hard contact
with the metal strip that holds down
the linoleum edge of my kitchen floor,
that strip that separates the kitchen
from the living room. (Remember?)
I blacked out a bit and then got
swallowed by a cloud of refrigerator
sound that burrowed into my ears and
I knew then that I had hurt myself
badly, that something had gone wrong
with the system that is my body. But
still, I thought, "This will pass," as I
lay on the floor. Things do.

I was alone there face-down on
the floor, and that deepened my fear.
You know? Alone. And now, a few
days have passed and I've been
thinking that we said that thing
about the ER not because we
needed to express how the other
mattered, but because we needed
a salve for the horrors of what it
is to be alone.

But I have forgotten your number
by now. And eventually I will stop
writing you poems. I hope this is the
last one. I lay on the floor for about
five minutes until I got myself up and
poured myself a glass of water and
texted a friend who came to my place
right away. My eye is healing. I see
now that I was never going to be
the one you'd call in an emergency.
That was my fantasy, and you knew
that all along.

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!