This piece was first published in Quarto’s 2020 Spring Print Edition.
Illustration by Mitali Khanna Sharma
Fond of laughing and
no longer in Budapest
I sleep warmly alone, watch
tin roofs and muted houses run
backwards out the window
Sleeping on trains instead
of in bed with you, Slovakia
muffled against my ears,
the drone of the wheels that
pull me into a stupor
You would like the mint green
laced across Czech towns you
would whisper it in my ear color
tipping as we slip
sideways, reaching the border
Back in New York you
call me from gold-lipped
concrete, walk me past the bookshop
on Fifth Street, hold me
in your pocket beneath blossoms
of a spring I am missing
You, gold-lipped under cool
sheets. You, blossoming
like the sweet June air. You,
crooning in my head as
the train reaches the station.
Sarah (she/hers) is a poet from Brooklyn, NY. She's a senior at Barnard, majoring in English with a concentration in Creative Writing and a minor in Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies. Writing poetry has always been a part of her life, and she's loved getting to nurture and expand her craft while at Barnard. When Sarah is not writing, she loves to dance, play bananagrams with friends and family, and brush up on her embroidery skills.