• Sarah Van Arsdale

April 2, 2022

Updated: Apr 11



From her room next door

flicked whispers,

susurrations passed between

her best friend Helen

and my sister.

My door ajar, I listened.


Outside, in pale green spring light

the crocus bursting

from their dark envelopes

and by the barn

the wild forsythia

twisting into flower.


All my life, I’ve missed her.


4 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Prompt: a duplex, per Jericho Brown The air so still it makes my heart thrum. I can hear the strumming robins’ wings as they dart and dip beneath the dippling lilac bough that came down in the storm,

On Writing a Novel If I knew how to write a novel, it would be about two sisters in a big, fractured family. They’re in the middle. One tries, all her life, to understand the other. She thinks of her

On Learning to Paint More often than not, I’ve simply stood in dumb awe at the world, unmoving, unable to speak, a gasp held tight in my chest. Near my heart. But now, I load my brush with cobalt, red