Bio Note: I live in Vermont, carve in stone, & ride my bike. Travel opens my eyes. I have three poetry collections, The Human Contract (2017), Notes from a Nomad (nominated for the Massachusetts Book Awards 2018), and With a Polaroid Camera (2019) with another book forthcoming in 2023.
Breathe in the index of trees their leaves, their bark, their rings. We are in wreathes of flesh and blood and bones and a swirl of images, not so much a movie reel of where we've been more like the weave of a blanket we know well we once touched and know its smell the way cypress perfumes the air soldiers of them releasing their skin in shreds. A mother knows the scent of her child's head, the way we know where we were and can have it back in a flutter, reach in for a wisp, a single brushstroke of being in the front seat of the station wagon between two parents, your siblings in the back and forgotten because you are the only kid in the world barreling down some dark corridor of highway.
I Wish I Had My Own Moon
A barren place to plant a flag. How there is often just one glove, one reason, one night, and no real job for a poet. There's no explaining the gravitational pull besides the rise of tides and release of blood. I need to orbit beyond what feels real to find other lands and land on something new to understand the old— so much to uncover and dust off and label.
©2022 Sarah Dickenson Snyder
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