Sarah J. Sloat
Study with Nightcap
Rain made a blur of the buildings and lit windows.
I stopped by the Greeks for a glass of wine.
On the wall a painting of what seemed to be a ball of yarn, asymmetrical.
Perfection quite off the agenda.
The yarn loomed across the room like a far-off planet.
You couldn’t make out a thing that was happening.
I left it to my imagination.
All in all, my career as a voyeur has been remarkable in its poverty.
Found wanting vs. found longing.
The waitress thanked me for my patience.
Train into Winter
October kicks over its own kindling-
twilight early, never fail.
I’ve been clipping fuses,
skirting a larger problem
with when and whether to decide.
We’ll arrive but the sun has a headstart.
I remember when
something as plain as snowfall
would ease me —
clearing lengths of overthinking
I threw out like tracks.
October, you’re the saboteur
of your own beauty. Sun, you’re flying
out ahead of us too fast.
Sarah J. Sloat divides her time between Frankfurt and Barcelona, where she works in news. Her poems, prose and collage have appeared in The Offing, Beloit Poetry Journal and Diagram, among other journals. A book of Sarah's visual poetry will be published by Sarabande Books in 2020. You can find her at sarahjsloat.com.