Sarah Kain Gutowski

SAMPLE WORK:

(with links to full poems)

"Now imagine I am three.

Not the tree. Instead,

a totem made of flesh

 

beneath a wooden sky:

my many fingers spin

the thread of possible lives."

 

    from "A Woman: Split," Stirring: A Literary Collection, Vol. 16, Ed. 5, May 2014

 

*   *   *

 

"My brains for skull and sky. My hair for forests of ash

and alder; my flesh for moss beneath the leaves and clouds."

 

    from "A Woman," Stirring: A Literary Collection, Vol. 16, Ed. 4, April 2014

 

 

*   *   *

 

"Birthing was less a miracle and more of a letting go,

the release of a knot I’d carried for months

within my belly. I didn’t understand

the small, wet shapes that glistened under the early sun –

and their first sucks of air, their little hooves

kicking, silently, scared me."

 

    from "The Mistakes Our Mothers Make," Verse Wisconsin Online, Issue 112

 

*   *   *

 

"On days like this, her head is not a skull filled with networked matter,

its own system of fences and walls built up and torn down over time.

It is an empty cavern sleeved with hanging bats"

 

    from "Why Our Mothers Panic," Verse Daily, September 2012 and

    originally The Southern Review, Spring 2012

 

 

*   *   *

 

"his mother sees the fear leaping from him like flecks of foam:

 

it is more than a squeal ringing in her ears; it is a throbbing in her intestine,

a pulse that makes her run back and forth, wailing."

 

   from "What Our Mothers Know as Love," The Gettysburg Review, Summer 2012

 

 

 

Copyright © Sarah Kain Gutowski 2018

Last updated: October 2018