Poetry by Sarah Henry: Icarus and Conclusion


He walked triumphant
into the blazing lodge
and waxed his skis
with great gusto
just before his lift
chair was struck
by lightning.



The sun is spiked as in a child’s
drawing. We speak in a universal
language while the center
of the earth cools.

This planet seems so small.
We sit in the last room,
at the end of the last hall,
and your hands look very honest.

The moon teeters against the sky.
The earth turns to listen.
A star falls between us.
It’s got the white heat
of dry ice.


Sarah Henry
Sarah Henry
Sarah Henry studied under Robert Hass and Louise Gluck at the University of Virginia. Today she lives near Pittsburgh, where her poems have appeared in the Pittsburgh Poetry Review and the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Farther afield, Sarah’s poems have been published in Soundings East, The Hollins Critic, The Camel Saloon, and many other journals. Her work can also be found in five recent anthologies, among them three from Kind of a Hurricane Press. CheapPop and Donut Factory featured her humorous prose.