Preservation, by Sarah Carleton

I used to iron maple leaves between 
sheets of wax paper 

to hold the moment the hills burst out
vibrant as stained glass.

This was how I told the trees I loved them. 
I’d press my joy then hang it in windows

and on the fridge—yellow, coral, 
crimson, more permanent than syrup

drizzled over a bowl of snow,
more fleeting than a fossil in a museum.
 
Now the color of dried blood and stones,
my foliage lives in a storage box, mulching
 
alongside boarding passes and valentines 
and dusting them all in paraffin.

Sarah Carleton writes poetry, edits fiction, plays the banjo, and knits obsessively in Tampa, Florida. Her poems have appeared in numerous publications, including Nimrod, Tar River Poetry, Cider Press Review, The Wild Word, Valparaiso, Crab Orchard Review, As It Ought to Be, and New Ohio Review. Sarah’s poems have received nominations for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Her first collection, Notes from the Girl Cave, was published in 2020 by Kelsay Books.

© 2024, Sarah Carleton