le cygne
“Sarah, how does a bird know how to make a nest?”

“How does a spider know how to weave a web?”

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Filed under:
pantin, death, pandemic

humans in the parc de la poudrerie
The leaves vibrating in the trees muffle the sounds of a not-so-distant civilization. Faint echos of human children, an ambulance siren, a whinnying police horse: timeless and familiar human sounds.

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Filed under:
poetrytrees, sevran, pandemic

like a boxer in the ring
Est-ce que je vais mourir ?” I mumbled to the nurse in my silly American accent as she gave me another morphine injection. It was 4 o’clock in the morning, what seemed to be my body’s witching hour. It was my fifth evening of morphine injections, no food or water, and dreams of carbonated limonade and strawberries.

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There was something slightly offensive about the pungent smell of a woman’s perfume above or below me. There is also a subtle but pervasive foul smell of mildew or stagnant water.

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Filed under:
pantin, pandemic

lockdown sketches
Filed under:
sketches, markerpandemic © 2022
(there are other sarah rose’s, but this is the new one)