by Rudri Bhatt Patel

Welcome today’s poem and more poetry coming in April at Sunlight, in honor of National Poetry Month.

by Sara Tantlinger

Gears grind
beneath my skin, scraping
against bone.
I dig
through scar tissue
to silence the grating.
I find
sand rather than blood
flowing through the rotating cogs.

I am counterclockwise.

Hands crack
through my twisted core,
revealing that I am Longcase;
a black swinging pendulum
for a heart. I shift
like tectonic plates,
fracturing
the flesh-Pangaea
of me because I am not skin.

I am desert.

Hushed footsteps
trample over the vastness of me,
leaving prints in the oasis of my soul.
I drift backward
on a jasmine-scented breeze
as the Earth spins forward.

In solitude I watch
stars explode and vanish my era
into darkness.

I am relic.

The horizon simmers,
marinating in a moment’s time that is unknown.
My silhouette will rumble
as I slip between the hourglass, waiting
for the world to move into the void.

I am shadow.