Sarah Corcoran

Recording, Day: Hour: Minute

he offers me a half eaten box of chocolates
because he got hungry on the way over. Later,
as I puke into the traffic of a highway, he lights
his cigarette with the sun

together we stand on the rooftop, two black birds
stuck in the inky tape of old answering machines.
I want to bottle lightning to ignite the brushfire
in my throat: the end of the tunnel

I press my pinky into my ear until the thoughts of him
stop, run my tongue along the edge of the scrap corner
holding his number

standing in my door jamb, he’s the static
of passing under a bridge in a hailstorm: whirring
dust orbs in diluted desk lamp haze.
I try to simulate my own electroshock therapy
by pressing the line of skin from wrist vein to foot arch
against the hot bulb to stop the panicked shivers

I suck at the rust-marrow of the shower vent with my teeth,
but only end up swallowing a wasp that makes my bones vibrate

our heels catch on cement split with dandelions. Standing
still will get us lost: the lull before the movie credits roll. I kneel
out the window of his car and watch the rain in horizontal motion,
we are a broken record playing the same line         lost
thirty miles back when we started to pick up speed

Seismic Fragmenting

I’d set out to discover the hazmat sign
around her tense, slim neck. To understand her

bobbing knee left me running my tongue
along her conchoidal fractures, torn between

a statue in her door jamb & giving her space
of a thousand bumblebees. Her geocached lipstick
smears made me a TNT stick lit from both ends.

I remember dry pine needles under her
bare toes, the crunch

of my molars against I need—. Her tight-lipped
smile lasted the 365 day trek without falling

to pieces I built, believing I could chart her
pink tint with fingers alone.

Sarah Corcoran is a junior at SUNY Geneseo studying International Relations and Spanish. For the most part, she enjoys the insanely large amount of snow in her hometown of Syracuse, New York and freezing her toes off skiing. If she could, she’d have tea with George R.R. Martin to find out how he will end his series.

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