sometimes in the early
morning when i am running
i go unconscious. my feet are falling
on pavement in a pattern not
unlike music my shorts swishing
and i collapse. if i’m lucky
i awake on the greeleys’ front
lawn with their lab licking
my shoulder and i am nowhere
near the train
tracks. people under-
estimate the power of a
daily blackout. when i get
home mother tells me to drink
a glass of milk and wash the
weakness off my face.
About the author:
Sarah Harste is a student at Wofford College in Spartanburg, SC, where she majors in English and Government. She hopes to pursue a MFA in Creative Writing, but, for now, would just like to make it out of undergraduate unscathed. A poem of hers is forthcoming in PANK.
I really enjoyed this. I liked the last three lines in particular. It did occur to me that calling it a blackout somehow reduces the impact of the poem as a whole … an unaccountable absence without mystery.
But that reservation did not detract from the leasure I took in reading it.