Poetry by Carson Sandell

             ​Tony Webster CC



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Born a Watchtower


Long hot summer nights bundled akin to newborn Jesus
Transfixed on cartoons, baptized in flickering blues
Sweat beaded around my throat like a skin tight rosary

From down the hall一 beyond an empty kitchen  
Mom’s dreams no longer spoke through her lips
No guttural shouts, screams, or incoherent rambles

I think of Jimi Hendrix; Dad said he choked in his sleep
& slipped into cold silence
My young mind promised she’d rise to morning hunger

May this be love or impatience, but I walked in her room
Passed a night stand with a closed big book next to open Heineken
Tip-toed over a wrinkled bible & painkillers hidden in carpet

I pressed my ear against her chest, held my breath to hear hers
I waited for an exhale一 hoped to feel her lifeless body expand
Sometimes when I doubted my senses, I’d whisper mom 

Then rock her shoulders, cradle limp arms, until she returned to me
Though annoyance followed, I murmured a prayer at god
& thanked him for not donating her soul to a collection basket

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Carson Sandell is a twenty one year old queer and demisexual poet from San Jose, California. He’s currently studying creative writing with a concentration in poetry at UC Riverside and hopes to become a teacher one day. Beyond writing he is simply a coffee lover, cat enthusiast, and fuzzy sock collector. 

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