Author: Sarah Snyder

Five Poems

Avalanche After the tumbling of a wave of snow has quieted and you are trapped in depth and whiteness, you should clear a space in front of your face to breathe of course but also to drool. It is the drooling, the movement of it, where it travels that guides us – whichever way it runs on your skin, you dig in the opposite direction. Scrape against gravity until you see sky. Drooling orients. Saliva signals. Blood, guts and saliva – coating life, surround a baby as she appears from dark folds, covered in stickiness, swaddled in muck and...

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