Airstrip Heart

Sarah J. Sloat

At two we are scheduled for snow.

The sky swells with the fear of falling
the feeling
a little wind can trigger.

Windmill, windowsill, the dark keeps growing back.

The midwest oozes from the radio;

the pilot light
flies through the night
in his uniform of blue.


from Heiress to a Small Ruin
Available from Dancing Girl Press

This poem originally appeared in Whiskey Island (print only).

Sarah J. Sloat lives in Germany, where she works in news. Her poems and prose have appeared in the Offing, Beloit Poetry Journal, and Hayden’s Ferry Review, among other journals and anthologies. Her chapbooks Inksuite and Excuse me while I wring this long swim out of my hair are also available from Dancing Girl Press.

Heiress to a Small Ruin (Dancing Girl, 2016)