They Made Wars
We drank sweet Turkish coffee
and talked long into the night
of mothers who lost children in cities,
who locked them out of houses in thick rain,
who foresaw snow on a warm spring day,
how snow fell after their words.
By dawn, we forgot which stories
we had told and which we had forgotten
in the eagerness of our first revelations.
By starlight, we whispered our terrors:
Giant mothers outgrew houses.
They made wars without anyone noticing.
We never mentioned fathers.
Those pale and harried men.
no one says it
love w/ exclamation points
love! love! love!
John texts it (love)
no point wanting
a love letter she knows
that’s not the #love
& that song
love love love
all you need is
not the #love
Carla Sarett’s recent poem appear or are forthcoming in Blue Unicorn, The Virginia Normal, San Pedro River Review, The Remington Review, Sylvia, Words and Whispers and elsewhere. Her novella, The Looking Glass, will be published in October (Propertius); and A Closet Feminist, a full-length novel, will appear in 2022 (Unsolicited Press.) Carla lives in San Francisco.