Poetry by Jaclyn Sadicario

May 1l, 2014

for E & P & W

every year statements become shorter, staccato: the day
can no longer have an entire poem as an epigraph, masses
of flowers blush petals now wash down gutters, blossoms could not
hold long enough for me to lay in them, sink into the sewers
below. I change the poem I read, I change the poems I read,
try to find another meaning, but the cherry blossoms have shed.
it is unseasonably warm, the new grass grows twice as fast, covers
up the gravestones, moves in the wind like flames could have recited,
but didn’t. 
By now I know this feeling by heart but you’d
want me to forget that feeling & remember a parkway lined with evergreens, the slight scent, hint of sea air floating from the bay instead 
of these transient flowers, that fall when I need them 
just when I need them to fall into.  I don’t
have to look it up, this is where I always return, my own yard a concrete
slab covered in a tree’s discarded cherry blossom petals, too weak
to hold on just when I need them, the grief in my heart is stronger
than they & I turn away to forget that I know this feeling by heart, try to create a
space for the evergreen trees, for the parkway, it was so much
empty air to fill with ocean, and I am waiting for this day to end, I wish 
I could celebrate you but each year it counts down to itself, each
year it calls itself by name and I can no longer say the word unless
the tense has passed. Unless I close my eyes and sink into 
the sewers too.

 

Jaclyn Sadicario is a Philadelphia poet. She is the co-editor of bedfellows, a small, Philadelphia based literary magazine focused on intimacy & relationships, which she co-edits alongside Alina Pleskova. The third issue can be found online at bedfellowsmagazine.com. Issue 4 is being released July 23rd, 2015. Her work can be found in the Philadelphia Review of Books' website, trinity review, & mad house, among other places.