top of page

March 23, 2023


Everything in the room turned away 

The teacup turned its delicate porcelain handle 

Felt dollies ripped out their hair, leaving tendrils of glue 

The articulated lamp contorted itself in fear 

And the winged-back chair with duck upholstery wished it was a bird 

I tried to explain 

But they did not understand language 

Not the kind from sound anyway 

Only the almanac, with its tattered spine 

and dog-eared pages, stared at me 


© the author

by Sandra Hosking

Sandra Hosking is a Pushcart-nominated poet, playwright, and photographer based in the Pacific Northwest. Her work has appeared in Red Ogre Review, The Elevation Review, Havik, Black Lion Review, and more. She holds an M.F.A. degrees in theatre and creative writing.

bottom of page