JET-LAGGED

I hang my worries on a mobile 
and catch a blink of sleep while the moon 
floats in a lavender sky.

All pieces of the day jumble.
Hours skitter to the right and tip the floor, 
sending tiles leaping to the sides of buildings.

The sea swallows syntax and tosses back 
tidal debris in English
and Portuguese.

I breathe air free of trouble.
Skulls, fires, and bills are baubles
that dangle, turning the stars.

Sarah Carleton writes poetry, edits fiction, plays the banjo, and knits obsessively in Tampa, Florida. Her poems have appeared in numerous publications, including Nimrod, Valparaiso, Rattle, ONE ART, and As It Ought to Be. Sarah’s poems have received nominations for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net, and she is a finalist for the 2023 John Ridland Poetry Prize. Her first collection, Notes from the Girl Cave, was published in 2020 by Kelsay Books.