FLARE Highlights

Fall 2019

Sara Marron, Allentown, Pennsylvania #6

From: Amy Noland [amypie3@gmail.com]          Sent: Mon 2/14/13 1:13 AM (15 minutes ago)
To: Jennifer Schafer [jennschaf@aol.com]
Subject: Re: our last conversation

Dear my darling Jennifer,

This side of the pillow still smells like the oil from your hair
that I let myself melt into and now is a puddle of tears because

what else is there to do but fall apart into these moments without
you here to push my hair away and tell me that we will make it

through together and that we don’t need the next dose and that
we can make it one more day and to just throw out the needles

and the bag this time because we have each other and that’s
enough and that’ll be all we’ll ever need, that’s not so crazy

is it? I counted the steps from your grave stone to the house
today and it’s 1,093 steps exactly to the front door of this house

and if I focus I can keep track of the trip exactly each time, which
helps me to make it there without turning off on 15th street to where

we would cop together. If I just focus on one step at a time and count
them then eventually I get there and I sit with you for a while and

then I count them back here and write you something so you know
that you’re not forgotten here, or maybe I’m just writing so that

I don’t forget you and I’m numbering so I don’t get lost numbering
the quarters I have stashed for a gram of yeyo and the best dope I can find.

Sara Cahill Marron is a Virginia-born New York School Poet who received her master’s in English from St. John’s University in Queens. Her poetry has been featured in various online and print poetry journals such as Dark Matter, Chagrin River Review, Gravel, The Write Launch, Foliate Oak, Joey & The Black Boots, The Newtown Literary Review, Cordella, and others. She is the author of Reasons for the Long Tu’m (Broadstone Books, 2018), which combines two seemingly disparate sources: a painting by Marcel Duchamp and the rosary. Using the strict meditative structure of rosary, Tu’m invites readers to contemplate “mysteries” in three chapters with sets of ten poems each on lyrical art, lascivious love and sex, and letters of loss and death and what remains. It is a work about looking back, looking forward, working within limitations, and breaking with conventions. She is currently working on another Duchampian inspired “readymade” manuscript using email formats to tell the story of another New York School Poet, Morty Sklar, who recently passed away. When she’s not writing poetry, Sara runs for exercise and for fun, visits as many museums as she can, enjoys both operas and rap music, and plays chess—devoting less time to the practice than Duchamp did but aspiring to the Mysticism of Blake in all endeavors. She is a friend of Bill W.