4 poems by Sarra Culleno: “Grave Soak” “Periapt” “Beacon” & “Black Out”

Grave Soak

The scald pulls out aches, a
poultice of burn.
Pores dilate and glands purge
drawing poisons.
Steam's balm relieves throat
into lungs by turn.

Oils and lathers mask outside
stilled and subdued in
submerged weightless pass,
concealed underside, defying

Beneath like sediment replacing
held down by seductive
doused into netherside of
looking glass.

Nadir rush, deaf like amphibian.
Resurface sharp up to abrupt
of asphyxiation's meridian.

Subito spasmodic. Frenzy ambit
reflexive gasps from betraying


When silver is worn over a 
    it's buffed by the pulse, so
shines up sheen.

So long as the two
contact, keep close,
     amulet tarnishes vanish; rust
           melts at skin's touch, so
                 clavicle's radiance is

Conducting flows, when they're
near enough
      magnets recharge their
Norths and their Souths
        if they're in each other's
     reach. Scuffs smooth flat
              under a loving body
                    weighty as precious


I tap a texting torch
which flattens batteries
down to broken Morse Code.
Outside, the car tank's empty.
We are staying right here.

We dulled low the lights. It
hides, soft-tempers the mess.
Yet, as moths dash their brains
out against the dimmed bulbs
the blackened corners creep.

Blind-folded, we plug ears.
You press the volume off
for the news. I'm listening,
through headphones.
mute, as my charger drains.

I switch the torch off now,
so when disaster strikes,
there still may be enough
for one last surrender
or desperate SOS.

Black Out

The sun came up in the East. It peeped, above
the water like a wistful proposition.
It began as a sliver of future, an
entre, of all the day's potential reached in an 
excited flirt.

Midday prime was a fine trophy to behold.
It rose, full and round and complete. Once whole, too
beautiful to even look on. Dreams realised
themselves in gold against a velvet of azure
and sapphire.

Where did the black out start?
Too late in the day, anyway.
The first splatters so fleetingly tiny,
only quantum flickers of grain on a single frame
of cinematic reel.

By mid afternoon, patches of vibrant horizons
were already erased blot by sooty blot.
The fiery reds and oranges of a promised sunset
were flubbed in dark blotches like drops of ink
bungled into an evening bath.

The dampened day, let go, to empty dusk. 

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Sarra Culleno

A Poetry Showcase from Sarra Culleno

Bio: Sarra Culleno is a British BAME poet, mother and English teacher who performs her writing at
events across the UK. She writes about children’s rights, motherhood, identity, gender, age,
technology, the environment, politics, modern monogamy and education. Sarra is widely
published. She has written fiction and poetry for publication, performance, print, audiodramas,
podcasts and radio. Sarra was longlisted for the Cinnamon Press Pamphlet Prize, for Nightingale
and Sparrow’s Full Collections 2020, and nominated for Best of the Net 2020 by iambapoet.
Sarra co-hosts Write Out Loud at Waterside Arts, and performs as guest and featured poet at
numerous literary festivals.
Youtube.com/user/sarra1978 – YouTube
@sarracullenopoetry – Instagram
@sarra1978 – Twitter
Sarra1978@hotmail.com – Email
facebook.com/sarracullenopoetry – FaceBook

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1


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