Survival Guide

The wolf never came to the door,
though we imagined it howling.
Somehow the lights stayed on.
The chuck-will’s-widow’s whistle vanished
from summer nights, yet still we listen at dusk
and dawn for the owls’ duet—hoot, cackle and caw—

wake to imprinted wren, thrush, mourning dove,
but also birdsong we can’t name,
mysterious as the universe we’ll never fathom,
having relinquished the ghost
of knowing to constellations
we’ll never see, to voices dreamed
but never heard, or heard no more—
yet, too, that haunting cry, airglow,
the occasional river of stars.


Sarah Carey (Twitter: @SayCarey1) is a graduate of the Florida State University creative writing program. Her work has appeared recently or is forthcoming in Five Points, Florida Review, SWWIM Every Day, Split Rock Review, Grist and elsewhere. Her book reviews have appeared recently or are pending in Salamander, EcoTheo Review, Tinderbox Poetry Journal and the Los Angeles Review.  Sarah’s poems have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and the Orison Anthology. Her poetry chapbook, Accommodations (2019) received the Concrete Wolf Chapbook Award.

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