Hayden Saunier: Augury, 2025
Seven black starlings
settle in the sycamore’s bony crown
like an idea taking shape
or a sign we once knew how to read.
October 6, 2025 · 22 Comments
Hayden Saunier: The Spin
My washing machine won’t operate
without the matte black hardcover
American Heritage Dictionary, Fifth Edition,
placed atop its lid. I no longer question this.
August 9, 2025 · 21 Comments
Hayden Saunier: A Cartography of Home
My mother was a place. She was the where
from which I rose.
March 31, 2021 · 7 Comments
Hayden Saunier: How I Suit Up for Winter Storms
Boots from my son’s eighth grade year,
outgrown far faster than the heart-deep
humiliations he bore for being gay
that I could not protect him from.
February 6, 2021 · 6 Comments
Hayden Saunier: After Watching the Attorney General Testify, May 1, 2019
I’m back outside, hands deep in dirt and dirt’s
the only thing that’s telling truth today.
June 10, 2019 · Leave a comment
