Sarah Bigham

Content to live in my imagination


Since what I call the chronic


struck I have abandoned

grand travel.


A wise man named


lives in our basement.

An old newel post with


and trim, he stays, immovable,

waiting, as I ponder what gift I could possibly



I have a purple cape of imitation


with sparkling gold trim to wear on days when I am

particularly verklempt.


At home, Conrad and


are regal.

Sarah Bigham teaches, writes, and paints in Maryland where she lives with her kind chemist wife, their three independent cats, an unwieldy herb garden, several chronic pain conditions, and near-constant outrage at the general state of the world tempered with love for those doing their best to make a difference. A Pushcart nominee, her poetry, fiction, and nonfiction have appeared in Bacopa, descant, indicia, The Quotable, Rabbit, Serving House Journal, Touch, and other great places for readers and writers. Find her at