I’ve trimmed last year’s
split ends with craft scissors.
I am no longer Ariadne,
abandoned on an island
with sleep dust still in her eyes.
my year was naked
and I wonder if hers was too.
did her stomach tie itself in knots,
malnourished, making food of itself
after being left with no words to digest?
how long did she stare at the ripples
left by Theseus’ disappearing ship
to search for bobbing glass,
note tucked in its throat,
before teaching herself
not to be hungry
even though hunger is her right?
I have pulled myself up on land legs,
grateful for moments where naked
vulnerability didn’t hurt, but sustained me:
wearing homegrown blooms of magenta,
deep lavender, royal blue on my sleeves
white, midnight jellyfish
under witchy river moon
cozy pocket of Saturday rain
and pink pillow talk
learning to ask
for what I want
I step into this yellow year
asking for the courage of words.
I want to palm them like apples,
a feast at my fingertips.
Sarah Fannon is a graduate of George Washington University's Honors English and Creative Writing program and she continues to live in the DC area. Her work is featured or forthcoming in SmokeLong Quarterly, Dark Moon Digest, Diabolical Plots, Divination Hollow Reviews, miniskirt magazine, The NoSleep Podcast, and the LGBTQ+ horror anthology, Black Rainbow. You can find her on Twitter @SarahJFannon and Instagram @ampersarah.