sanguine

Sarah Little returns with a poem for late nights spent at the kitchen table, where sparks fly.

by Sarah Little

sanguine.jpg

we brush hands
just a skim of knuckles
when reaching for the same
coffee cup.

physical contact is
unusual,
too busy living in separate bubbles
in the same house.

conversation begins with tea
at 2:30 a.m.
and it’s too hot to sleep,
too tired to sleep.

proximity breeds familiarity, usually.

i’m breathing in sparks
from the air.
choking on giggles,
suddenly buoyant, mischievous.

she sits with me,
physical contact lending me
energy.
it’s almost a form of mania.

we drink,
and she reads my mind
eighteen times.
i blame the electricity.

night falls, promises to be static
and we are sanguine in the expectation.
night falls, fails to be static
and we are too electric to care.

 



Sarah Little | tuckedintoacorner.wordpress.com | @tuckedinacorner

Sarah Little has an ever-running mind, which makes writing the perfect occupation. When she isn’t trying to slow her mind, she blogs, amuses colleagues with writing adventures, and looks for shenanigans. Her work has appeared in Effervescent Magazine, and is forthcoming in Halo Literary Magazine and Twisted Sister Literary Magazine. She can be found blogging or on Twitter.

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