Gray
By
John Sara
I remember the way the sun shone
upon my face, but I’ve already forgotten
its hue.
The color of sandpaper.
The color of the waves.
I cry, and my tears are gray,
gray like the old man in my dreams,
who tells me not to pick flowers
from the stones.
I know he’s right. Paper flowers
are quick to fall
apart. But I disobey.
I kneel down.
Pick one.
Then another.
A snake in the grass
bites my leg when it finds me,
and I bleed; harmonious, endless
gray.
Never feeling a thing.
John Sara is a writer from Parma, Ohio. He holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Ashland University, where he teaches as an adjunct and edits for The Black Fork Review. His work has been featured in such places as Maudlin House, Blood+Honey, Bending Genres, BRUISER, Cul-de-sac of Blood, and more. His debut poetry collection, The Poet Who Cried Monster, was published by Alien Buddha Press in January of 2026. You can follow him on Instagram @darkbat616.
By
John Sara
I remember the way the sun shone
upon my face, but I’ve already forgotten
its hue.
The color of sandpaper.
The color of the waves.
I cry, and my tears are gray,
gray like the old man in my dreams,
who tells me not to pick flowers
from the stones.
I know he’s right. Paper flowers
are quick to fall
apart. But I disobey.
I kneel down.
Pick one.
Then another.
A snake in the grass
bites my leg when it finds me,
and I bleed; harmonious, endless
gray.
Never feeling a thing.
John Sara is a writer from Parma, Ohio. He holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Ashland University, where he teaches as an adjunct and edits for The Black Fork Review. His work has been featured in such places as Maudlin House, Blood+Honey, Bending Genres, BRUISER, Cul-de-sac of Blood, and more. His debut poetry collection, The Poet Who Cried Monster, was published by Alien Buddha Press in January of 2026. You can follow him on Instagram @darkbat616.
