mosaic
he was there
in that hospital gown
while her feet swung above the wooden slats set beneath the pew
sat beside her
blurred at the edges by a gentle ray
and christened by dancing dust motes
told her yellow was her color
that it polished the tarnished stars in her eyes
a constellation guiding him here
turned his head
so she trailed his gaze
to shards of glass cradled in lead
she thought
not of God
but of each piece
deliberately fractured—
the months waiting
the pale periwinkle paper
the cartons of spoiled milk
he was there
reading Coleridge against the remnants in his throat
sitting resplendent as the sun uprist.
unwoven
i told you that i hated the month of august
as my left held a locket of gold
inches from my chest,
clicked it open,
latched it shut,
let it fall.
earth slowed her spin,
halted her breath,
for the willow to hear
through stagnant air.
i stayed still against all i’ve said before:
of sand
and heat
and summer squash.
before you turned your head,
the street lamp revealing
crescents across your palm
and an untimely gray,
a strand of the moon
stripped from the sky
for the earth to behold.
i wished then
for its warmth to return,
for the days to stretch long until sun is all you know,
for shadows to serve only as gauges of light.
Sadie Jackson is a fifteen-year-old poet living in Providence, Rhode Island. In January, she was named the Deputy Youth Poetry Ambassador of RI. She attends Classical High School, where she plays goalie on the field hockey team, acts as class president, and is a photographer for the yearbook club. In her spare time, she loves drawing portraits, catching up with each of her four siblings, and falling into the collections of Pablo Neruda and Mary Oliver. Sadie’s own poems are primarily narrative—exploring a range of interpersonal relationships within our ever-evolving world.
