Issue Thirty-One - Winter 2018

Our Home

By Sarah Carleton

Evening snuck in while
you were knitting,
eyes downward,
focused on a head full of knots.
Your labrador followed in a deeper hue,
blue-black, the color of nightshade.

She clicked over and sat on your lap
displacing yarn,
curled into your blue-linen underbelly,
her spine a crescent,
while you laughed, rough and rumpled.

You held her to your womb, pressing flat
the raveled strands.

Copyright 2018 Carleton

Sarah Carleton writes poetry, edits fiction, tutors English, plays the banjo, and makes her husband laugh in Tampa, Florida. Her poems have appeared in numerous publications, including Cider Press Review, Nimrod, Chattahoochee Review, Tar River Poetry, Crab Orchard Review, and New Ohio Review. Her first collection, Notes from the Girl Cave, was recently published by Kelsay Books.

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