November 23, 2015 / Creative Writing
A young girl tries to escape a grief-stricken home only to find that home is where her she is known most fully.
December 6, 2012
Reflection, the moon’s milk
and penumbra, yields
to source, brash shine, exact
expression. I have seen the same,
a broken umbrella skyward
becomes two ravens
Do you remember
hiding? The wolf, his wet teeth?
The boards under your bed
that held when you slept
kept us. And we would breathe
like we had run. All this time.
When we come out
Sarah Steinke’s work has appeared in the Laurel Review, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Crab Creek Review, and elsewhere. Her work has also been commissioned by Seattle’s St. Paul’s Episcopal Church.