Wednesday, July 15, 2020

New Poetry by Carla Sarett

someone somewhere 

It wasn't the first night
a guy was yelling 
loud enough to wake me as I
was dreaming of someone

in a trance on Highway 101 
crying out that he was Jesus,
when I woke up to someone 
shouting to no one. I couldn't tell

how far his fury was from me
but as I lost my dream's dying 
I know someone is shooting
someone somewhere

someone is lighting the sky with 
the red of blood and grief,
blinding white flashes
earthquake-loud battles

cannons, rifles, bombs,
blasts of rage and sorrow, 
and I cannot stop listening
for someone somewhere.

- © Carla Sarett 2020

Carla Sarett's recent work appears or is forthcoming in Third Wednesday, Prole,  The Virginia Normal, Hobart and elsewhere.  Her essays have been nominated for Best American Essay and the Pushcart Prize.  Carla lives in San Francisco.

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