Category Archives: Sarah A. Chavez

Sarah A. Chavez Four Hours After You Died I dyed my hair purple. I would have done itanyway, but maybeless methodical, withmusic and dancing underthe line of bare bulbsin the bathroom of thishouse you didn’t get the chance to step in.  I dyed my hair purple,our shared favorite color.Each rinsed strand glintsviolet after drying.You’d think it wasContinue reading “Sarah A. Chavez – Four Hours After You Died”

Sarah A. Chavez Two of the people  I loved the most from the ages of 12 – 20 are dead.  This thought creepsneaks weaves into my thoughts at the oddest times . . .  Can I help you ma’am? a saleswoman in a mask asks from behindthe Amazon return counter at Kohl’swhere I stand, looking at nothing. I say, My friends are dead. And don’tContinue reading “Sarah A. Chavez – Two of the people”

Sarah A. Chavez Dear Poetry, You have given and I have taken. I have given and you have taken. One day, I could no longer bear the taking, so I set you aside.  I thought you might wait. That’s what some of your other lovers have implied. They slept and slept and slept.  On awaking, you were there. Stoic. Open-eyed and receptive. I cannotContinue reading “Sarah A. Chavez – Dear Poetry”

Sarah A. Chavez I am an inconsistent lover to all things in which I have given my love. My love is not fickle. Giving it is like prying open the maw of a fox trap. The hinges want so badly to stay closed, but to fit steel tooth into steel tooth is to starve.                  OnceContinue reading “Sarah A. Chavez – I am an inconsistent lover”

Sarah A. Chavez Because There is Shadow, I Know There is Light I am envious of my younger self for whom death turned our face toward the light of poetry. Older  me, me of now: death is the shadow cast from the hulk of an impossibly wide trunk, bark: thick scales and time  hardened; branch: crinkle-crackle misdirection. Poetry seems just Continue reading “Sarah A. Chavez – Because There is Shadow, I Know There is Light”