poem index

Solar system bedsheets

Sarah Vap
There, behind sunlight,

is the long pressure
of a child's love. Becoming mute

with the child's love. Long influence of stars touched
by the hand wrapped, asleep,

in the newly laundered sheets. Touched 

to widths of butterscotch
stretched. Split-apart as the voices, rain thickening,

against one another forever, if glass. Forever
if resting against one another. Forever

if holding the end of a year like this: the nights 

lengthening. I check:    each child

is alive in his sleep. You are also asleep, love, 

at the end of the yarn

you are weaving around the edge of a pink paper heart
fattening—quieter, now.     Forever, if quieter, now.

Copyright © 2010 by Sarah Vap. Used with permission of the author.

Sarah Vap

by this poet

poem
her body's customs
with things

he requires
that she shave
not like a girl

his passing

actually
imagines her own

it's nothing, though

she just climbs out
of the forest
forearms swollen from horseflies,

her eyes swollen—
smears him
on her body, not knowing
how she intends
to live.

So shows
him something—