Three Poems

by Aleah Sato


in the pit of a spruce
there is a river bird
she has my love
tempted with feathers
and flicking tongues
and I walk through
her slow world
hoping to acquire
that night music
but I am a carved bow
a plucking
my vision halts
for the blind ritual
my lap is full of sun
and my laughter
a pleasant pool
in the green-blue water
my love goes calling
a bird made
of strings &
those fairer angels

Learning to touch

Premature babies live longer
when stroked like tiny dogs
in plastic shells.

Hearts speed up
for the feel of hands smoothing
baldness and fragility.

The ugly nurses stay late
to comfort
their loneliness like

miniscule pink miracles.

Old men stop by the windows
and look in
at death’s opacity.

Learning to touch,
we imagine the world
as a giant mother

who must give us up,
naked animals,
to the human wilderness.

Thirteen ways to wake

I open my eyes.

I eat gravel
and speak about
the end of time.

My boots are wet
with garden mud.
I don’t leave a note.

Blue veins line my hands
and the top of my feet
like a road map.
My eyes shine –
two hook-sunk

You push on my chest.
The skin gives way
to fruit bats.

My daughter holds my head
under water
and then I remember
I don’t have a daughter.

The examiner is coughing
slightly. He muffles
it. He drones
with his clearing.
I want to look down
to see what he’s doing
to me, but all I can think about
is his thin mouth.

The alarm goes off.

It is your demand.
Proof escapes us
into a field
of one million fireflies.

I thought I heard
you whisper my name.

In my canoe,
I ride the pooled
distant names
of lost gods.

I am a thin veil
of admission.
In the flames,
I eat my dark magic.

The light enters in.

Aleah Sato is the author of Badlands and Stillborn Wilderness (Pooka Press). Her work has appeared in Nthposition, Adirondack Review, Blue Fifth Review, Shadowtrain, American Poetry Review, The Argotist, and Eclectica, among others. Aleah lives in the Southwest with her dog, and can generally be found wandering the desert and canyons, looking for the wild muse. She can be reached through her blog, The Wild Muse,

One thought on “Three Poems

  1. Pingback: Three Poems | The Wild Muse

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