First I lie across your lap
for everyone to see, for comfort.
Second, we kiss, I pause, you touch my hair
and wave good-bye in one graceful sweep.
I wonder who I am in either dream,
talk myself through the threshold of another day
archived by winged beasts who know memory
as a slow volant flash of something close to pleasure.
by Sarah Sarai
Sarah Sarai writes poems and short stories in New York. Her work has appeared in South Dakota Review, Antigonish Review, Tampa Review, West, Raven Chronicles, Webster Review, VerbSap.com, Stet, Zyzzyva, Fine Madness, Frigg Magazine, Stained Sheets, Threepenny Review, Weber Studies, Minnesota Review, Potomac Review, Tipton Poetry Journal.