Every night I hear the windmills walking. Behind the blades, the sun closes like a black eye vesseled like an insect’s storm- torn wing. That’s beating in my head. In sleep, my sheets become the coat of armor that the knight of mirrors wore: plackart, crest, and collar the… [Read More]
Sarah Crossland has poems published or forthcoming in Crazyhorse, Shenandoah, FIELD, TriQuarterly, The Iowa Review, A Public Space, Denver Quarterly, Guernica, and other journals. She currently lives in Charlottesville, Virginia, and is at work writing a book of poems about the Romanov daughters and Slavic folklore called The Winter Palace. Her website is sarahcrossland.com.