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(Poems) – white dwarf
I’ve lost so much of myself. I reach for hydrogen beneath a trillion twinkling eyes and find nothing. So much of me is gone. The iron and sulfur and magnesium and neon. It’s so much darker now. What’s left— the things I used to love— sit in me as merciless reminders. Accomplishments turned to mockery. …
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(Poems) – photon violin
Our room is tangled with light. Orange and yellow threads of gold twist and intertwine, and I run my fingers through them as if they were your hair, catching on knots and worries that you wake up with every day. I will do my best to free them, to allow the strings to vibrate and…
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(Poems) – city of specters
I’m seven years old and we’re going home in the dark. driving six hundred miles without a light in the sky. the seat beckons with stiff comfort and you will never feel this peaceful again. columbus ohio is a scattered dream or ruined film. the stars have fallen into the streets like dead gods and…
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(Poems) – rotten dogwoods
The churches are full of gilded hunger, drunk on blood, praying with hands closed. But the pagans pray with their hands open, So I leave the rotten dogwoods, for the shivering willows, and spread my hands out, breathing so deep that my lungs could fit the entire world inside. The kids won’t be alright, but…
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(Poems) – april harvest
The morning air is so crisp that it crunches between my teeth like glass. Biting and bleeding. But my mouth is so numb from the cold that I can only taste the welling copper. I can’t feel the pain yet. When I exhale the bloody sand is a pale mist that the wind takes away…
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(Poems) – metallic
And I am cold metal pressed against your skin in winter when the snow takes your fingers and ears and nose and the wolves and doves gather to eat their piece the sky is pale and full the earth swallows the sound And I am that metal again in summer when you lick it and…
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(Poems) – smog
Death and me falling into the pale— that inky whiteness fogged with a thousand tongues of flickering smoke. the mist tastes like ash. my fingers are choking and the only sounds I can hear are paper burning And my own unheard pleading. precipice, downfall, silence.
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Liminal – 2,122 words
liminal : characterized by being on a boundary or threshold, especially by being transitional or intermediate between two states or situations. I: Northmoor University’s campus had always felt like a strange new world to Sara in the midnight hours, a thousand streetlights lighting every inch of the sprawling maze of roads and old brick buildings in…
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(Poems) – picked clean
you ask me to make more art but the vultures have come and gone. My body has been stripped for parts, any gold or silver stolen for the pawnshops. My head has been rusted for so long that you can’t tell the broken parts from the living Coal and gas fumes choke you with the…
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(Poems) – yourself
every poem can be about you if you don’t commit to a self. you can stay a shifting pile of neuroses, trapped between a coffee cup and wine glass. the kind of mess which stains. that you can never get out of your skin. cause you never had enough words in yourself, or a clue…
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(Poems) – twenty – 120 words
I have never once written a word I’m proud of. and I’ve never once taken a breath of fresh air. Or seen the stars unclouded. Or felt safe in my skin. I’m twenty years old And this country is the color of spilled blood, And the only metaphors I know are bloody, and I can’t…
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(Poems) – ninth floor – 107 words
And in reality you know this to be true: / you don’t feel any closer to this place on this floor / than you did on the second. / and it doesn’t feel like circumstance / or a choice / your wires are too tangled to connect / antennae too bent to transmit / lights…
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(Poems) – headless Victory – 68 words
you can’t hold yourself together anymore. the cracks spread further every day. making yourself marble has made them uncurable. even a helping hand can’t heal absence. there’s no glue for marble, no fix for burnt books. There’s a reason Victory is still headless, and you’re still not happy. nothing stays important, no one saves you,…
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spring ghost – 294 words
My sleep disintegrates into a sore neck and a dark room. I lift my head from my desk with a groggy moan. The screen saver of my laptop stares at me— accusatory and bright. A notebook filled with indecipherable trains of thought and decorated with drool sits on the side. The details come to me…
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(Poems) – the closing – 106 words
Your eyes are closed and I look out the window. The sky is drowning in crimson after someone tore out my throat with their teeth. Birds fall from the sky as if flight had just been a fantasy all along. I go to the ocean and watch the fish rise to the surface bellies-up, like…
Sidorenko's Writing
A Library in Progress
Sidorenko's Writing 