Sara June Woods


The second shard of morning looked
like a fallen angel & I mended her
wings and kept her in a shoebox
with air-holes & fed her drops of
yogurt & celery pieces until
one day the shoebox was empty
and there was a note left behind.

The note said that I had helped her greatly,
but her god was a jealous god
& she was sorry for what was
about to happen. It said I was
a machine that could be broken
& I had parts I couldn’t see,
that could be held in a wrench
& twisted hard & her language
slipped off the page somewhere
while describing the effects
of what I was about to experience,
like meaning was something you
could just take scissors to.

I folded the note until it was the
size of a quarter & took the filet
knife from the kitchen. I cut a deep
slit in my thigh & buried the note
& sewed it shut with dental floss
& prayed to that god only to know
where he stopped & I began.

Sara June Woods is a gay transsexual mess and also her own person. She made three books: Sara or the Existence of Fire (Horse Less Press 2014), Wolf Doctors (Artifice Books 2014) and the forthcoming Careful Mountain (Civil Coping Mechanisms, 2016). Her poems and art have been in Columbia Poetry Review, Gulf Coast, Diagram, Salt Hill, Guernica and the Denver Quarterly. She was part of the Trans Planet West Coast Tour this past summer and currently lives with her girlfriend-wife in an alley behind a drone store in Toronto.
Online, Poetrymarkc