by Sarah Sarai
“Pantyliner Notes.”
It’s yours, my hands are washed
for at least twenty seconds.
“Girl with a Pearl Jam Earring.”
“Tess of the Rosenthals.”
Confidence lost in bluster is
gained by belief in cohesion.
Sense is altogether different
and who cares not me.
“Dombey and Son from Another Mother.”
“A Midsummer Night’s Cream.”
Most likely I am trying to say
“War and Peas and Thank You”
for paying me any attention at all.
Sorry if I didn’t quite hit home.
Sarah Sarai’s fiction is in The Rye Whiskey Review, MacQueen’s Quinterly. Cleaver, Callisto, Tampa Review, and many other journals. Her poems are in New Ohio Review, New York Quarterly, The Southampton Review, and others. She is author of three poetry collections; lives in New York.