Sari Krosinsky edits Fickle Muses, an online journal of mythic poetry and fiction. Her poems appear regularly in literary and genre magazines. She received a B.A. in religious studies and M.A. in creative writing from the University of New Mexico. She lives in Albuquerque, N.M., with her partner and cat.
Want to hear Sari in person? "Yossele: a tale in poems" debuts at a poetry chapbook release feature reading and open mic on Tuesday, March 22, 7-9 p.m. at Winning Coffee Co., 111 Harvard Dr. SE. "Yossele" is based on myths of the golem in 16th century Prague. The reading features authors Sari Krosinsky and Robert Arthur Reeves and an open mic emceed by Kenneth P. Gurney. It is free and open to the public.
Election Day Memorial, 1984
Death was six months old. Me, six years.
Josh sat beside me on the torn leather seat,
greenhouse-hot in spite of the November chill.
We waited in the car for his mom, my dad
in a church in line for poll booths.
Didn’t mind my dad dating, though
this older boy could make me squirm.
Josh asked how my mom would have voted.
“I don’t know.” What a question.
He said, “Why don’t you ask her?”
Browning leaves speckled the windshield
in shadow, stuck in the wipers. Autumn—
a convenient metaphor, though death wore
spring that year, a Mother’s Day funeral.
“You can still ask her.” Like I couldn’t
come up with a better question
if I could raise the dead. Not why
she’s gone; I knew better. Nor where;
I didn’t want to know.
I said “Mondale” to shut him up,
and because Reagan’s eyes were crooked
in the first-grade newsletter.
The sun slipped behind the boardwalk
a few blocks down, behind the hidden dunes.
I had no questions. The end of the street
was far enough for me to see.