reflexes wanting

death, not dying.

Push it in

the toaster.

siphon thru lumen

gasoline. seal

it away leave

lips sticky notes

stamped with separate reminders:

combust collapsed veins.

Bike pedaling

spokes ticking

like analog clocks.

Time was old,

but time is now.

Wheels speak rustling cash

to gamble against

the will of a client.

Bilk that buyer,

Stoke that fire.

Pollen astride

a hair of wind

vacuumed up nostrils

finish the chores.

sensitive for

a sensory

moment; dull

ache of a valve

pierced wrong,

the sword swallowed,

stew lapping at

gnawed throat.


pointillist’s brush,

pick a man down

to his particles,

make him a master

piece him to peace


pinch into pore


this measured


skin-pilled paths

head onto pillow

Behold: it’s Nirvana

with gravitas

when it is blood

pressure crushing,

mercury shrinking.


a body bag

bibbed with an

indigent victim.

Avenge the suspense.

Remember what they were

Children who took hold

outgrew the hands

that stroked them.


SARAH KERSEY is a poet, musician, and x-ray tech from New Jersey. Her work has appeared in Yellow Chair Review, The Harpoon Review, Columbia Journal (online), Fire Poetry, Fourth & Sycamore, and elsewhere. Her personal blog can be found at