Wrought & Found

Original poems and found images.

~by Mia Sara

driving

The Black Isle

How many others, at this very minute, are sitting in a dark
kitchen with a cold cup of coffee? I can’t help but wonder.
It’s not my first cup. There was that double espresso I had
after dinner, before driving home in the dark, knuckles white,
night vision sketchy, counting the ways I’ve yet to fail my
son. It was too strong, but I gave up sleeping sixteen years

ago, and faulty vision, all that squinting in the dark, reminded
me of another drive, the one where it took me nine hours to get
from the town of Melrose, in the Scottish Borders, up north to
Inverness. A drive that should have taken four hours, tops, in
the spanking new, navy blue station wagon, with my baby boy
swaddled up tight in his car seat, howling, and me singing Continue reading

Wrought & Found

Original poems & found images

~by Mia Sara

Coffee Santa

Santa Saves Los Angeles

The Santa Ana winds
Dessicate good cheer.
Old roots and memories
Once freeze dried,
Lose their sap,
Withering the prospects

Of our Christmas tree.
The needles fall,
Not one by one, but
In steady showers.
What a fragrant corpse.
This Santa Claus Continue reading

Wrought & Found

Original poems and found images

~by Mia Sara

***

brooklyn-bridge-ca-1980Lost In Brooklyn, Found

Submerged, sunk deep,
On the silty bottom, as
Sandhogs, heads splitting
Inside the airless caisson,
Digging for, and never hitting

Bedrock.

Moonrise on the East River,
Under the bridge on a pile of rubble,
We pass the bottle,
Spring fevered, wiseacred,
Brooklyn kids,

Tit-flashing Manhattan. Continue reading

Wrought & Found

Original poems and found images

~by Mia Sara

Mid Life With Gorilla

At the annual Halloween parade for grades K-6, camera poised,
in the glare of what passes for Autumn in Southern California,
waiting for my daughter, in her gorilla suit, to round the corner,
when that come-hither mommy, the one with four-children-and
-counting,  sidles up behind me to whisper in my ear,

“You’ll miss this one day,” as I am squinting into the sun, neck
sweating, feet itching, thinking,

“But what if I don’t?”

What if I am stuck here at the corner of Moorpark and Elmer,
nodding my head, smiling. Trying not to worry about my girl,
in all that synthetic fur, passing out from heat stroke? Trying not
to feel annoyed with how long this is taking. Trying not to think
about what I might have been doing, had I not been here, exposed.

And If I don’t miss this, have I missed the boat?  I was living life
at sea level, but now, the water’s rising. Where’s that ivory tower,
now that I could use it? Now that youth and beauty, and other rough
devotions, are sinking, along with yesterdays missing homework
and the Kodak moment?

Is this the middle, or the end of the beginning? The beginning of
the end of the glad-handing? The diapers, and bloodstains, and crayons,
melted at the bottom of the bag? The time before the time you have
to remember the things you didn’t even know you wanted?

Have I left my gorilla too long in the sun?

I still want the shot. Proof I was here, standing on the solid earth,
dry beneath my callused feet. I want a lifeboat, a lodestar, a shiny
brass compass. Can I navigate by ape, the way back home from school?

I shift my weight, and spot her. Low to the ground, hobbling. Panting.
On knuckles and knees, pausing, she rears up, beats her chest, roaring.
I focus my lens, framing the picture, and I take it.

gorilla

 

 

 

***

Mia Sara is an actress and poet living in Los Angeles. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in poemmemoirstory, Pembroke Magazine, The Write Room, PANK, Cultural Weekly, The Kit Kat Review, Forge, The Dirty Napkin, St. Ann’s Review, among others. For more please visit: http://wheretofindmiasara.tumblr.com/