Sabrina the Water Nymph of the Welsh Border
12:47 am, random wednesday, english class the next morning but i’m staying up to write someone a love poem. “someone” is the brightness past 7 in march, is a wild patch of bluebells, is a bobbing shell in the open sea and,
i yawn to my
grandparents licking the bojana dry, h hollowed by j, named themselves a melody,
ferns upon the water’s fertility, purity their holy cause,
women / water / one.
sabrina — sestina your sacred name — shower me in erie,
body of dirt / body of sand / body of hurt
unsoil my running soul, frayed lashes made hands, martyred by father’s mistakes, milton wrote you wrong, i’ve known you a long time, you immortal mystic in words, sabrina, spindly arms
disarm your skin, cremation by riverside, saints of bojana swallow you whole, river your glory,
river my name.
Julie A. Larick is a student and writer living in Cleveland. She studies English, Environmental Science, and Activism at The College of Wooster. Julie edits for The Incandescent Review and interns at GASHER Journal. She has poems forthcoming or published in perhappened mag, Ogma Magazine, and others. Julie loves to sew, thrift, watercolor, and was born in 2003. Her portfolio is http://www.julielarickwriting.com and her Twitter is @crookyshanks.