Sandra Hosking

pine cone on ground

Sandra Hosking is a Pushcart-nominated poet, playwright, and photographer based in the Pacific Northwest. Her work has appeared in Red Ogre Review, The Elevation Review, Havik, Black Lion Review, and more. She holds M.F.A. degrees in theatre and creative writing.

Still life

Peach sits
And regards me
With no eyes
And chartreuse
Skin, not quite ripe
Whose hands plucked
You before your time?

They say time sweetens
But lift you up and rot
Is already beginning
Did the blossom know
What was coming?

Nothing Buried Can Stay

Tap tap tap
Rough hands engrave
A n n i e L e v i e
A m s t e r d a m
So much hope hammered
Into a small metal square.

Name tag pinned

To her wool coat,
It catches the sun
Through a crack
In the cattle car
Destination Sobibor.

250,000 souls lost

Until the prisoners rose

Some escaped

The rest interred

Buildings leveled
History razed
Pines planted
In their place.

In time, Truth rises

From the earth
In the form of tarnished tags.
Annie is among them.

History cannot stay buried
Even if roots try to hold it down.