Like the Sound of a Tree
Falling if No One’s Around
by Sarah Trudgeon
The stolons of a hanging spider plant are suddenly
very close. Dust has crept to even the shower curtain
and the edges of a Sacre’ Coeur photo are curled
and toothpaste-splattered like the mirror they’re stuck in.
Your mother’s face after burying her father made you
wonder if that’s how age happens–in increments.
You spot a camel cricket decaying in the windowsill.
It’s winter, she’s been there for months, and either
her putrefaction’s more striking than she is, or it’s you.
Sarah Trudgeon is a second-year Master’s student in English at the University of Cincinnati. This is her first publication. Of the poem, Sarah says it “started as a meditation on when and how things actually change or age. I guess its’ mostly about perception on both the giving end (what forces a person to actually see something differently) and the receiving end (like how quantum physics say that and object can potentially be in any state at any time, until you look at it, which disturbs or changes it).”