'Sadie and the Art of Not Knowing Where To Go Next': A Poem by Iris Wright

SADIE AND THE ART OF NOT KNOWING WHERE TO GO NEXT
you and your pretty pink
punk vibes. Round
glasses and a button
downtown pounce on the ground
collared shirt patterned for
stoners but now for.
you and your platinum
piggytails, your pearly teeth.
Move like a star before
telescopes could track
you. Move like a peach before
gravity could pull you. Skip into
arms, out of grasps. Skip
records until you’ve made a new
beat. you and your pillaging
eyes. you and your sunflower
presence.
you and your neon eye
-lashes. your subway
arms and your skyscraper
breath. Breeze like a skate before
wheels took shape. Breeze like the
air before skin could
know. you and your sandwich
shop nails. you and your leather
streets, your painted
cheeks, your moonlight
laugh.
Iris Wright is a writer and flower arranger living near Chicago but about to move across the country to attend Brown University. She is also the founding editor of the online literary magazine Orris Root, which unites science with art and poetry. Her poetry and fiction has appeared in Mad Scientist Journal and in Genre: Urban Arts. Between short stories and poetry, Iris is working on her first science fiction novel.