Sydney Vogl
Somewhere in a Suburb
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we floated through summer smoking weed in my parent’s hot tub, a half hollowed apple, i
bought an ‘03 camry with a cratered bumper when flames licked through california we sat on the hood, sucked on spiked slurpees & let ash rain into our throats while i drove, she dug fingers into the flesh of tangerines, a dozen of them sunk in her lap seventeen & going anywhere salty, even if that meant our lips after midnight the blood moon became our only witness, a strawberry fork splintering my mom’s kitchen table chlorine breath bottling please don’t tell anyone in my mouth my silence was inherited newspaper headlines, a city skyline inked onto forearm, at the diner around the corner from our apartment, where the red vinyl booth peeled sticky, and the waitresses knew our order but never our names |
Biography
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Originally from Los Angeles, Sydney (she/her) is a queer poet who lives and writes in San Francisco. In 2020, she was chosen as the poetry fellow for the Martha's Vineyard Institute for Creative Writing. Her work, which was nominated for Sundress Publications’ Best of the Net 2020, has been published in Entropy and The Racket and is forthcoming in Hobart and I-70 Review. She currently serves as a poetry editor for The San Franciscan Magazine and an assistant poetry editor for Invisible City and works as an educator to Bay Area Youth. Find her on Twitter: @sydneyvogl, Insta: @sydneyvogl, and on her website: www.sydneyvogl.com
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