A day is nothing if not a disappearing act/ held fast by ropes of sunlight and breeze/ until rain comes/ or a flower/ or a tree coughs to shake night along/ then there are shadows that feel like yesterday’s distance/ apparitions when we chase them/ haul them into light/ or move beyond its pull/ But I wish for days/ still/ days full of stanzas and violets/ crisp affirmations and the beautiful clouds/ where in their always-disappearing I find poems/ a comfort nothing/ a solemn ache.
Sarah A. Etlinger is an English professor who lives in Milwaukee, WI, with her family. A Pushcart and Best of the Net nominee, she is the author of two books, Never One for Promises (Kelsay Books, 2018) and the forthcoming Little Human Things (Clare Songbirds, 2020). She has also published poems in places like Neologism Poetry Journal, The Pangolin Review, Pulp Poets Press, and many others. Find her work and updates at https://sarahetlinger.com and on Twitter: @drsaephd.