Sage Enderton is a queer teenage poet living in Buffalo, NY. She enjoys fighting the patriarchy, unnecessarily large lattes, and old bookstores. She has had her work published in Right Here, Right Now: The Buffalo Anthology and Just Buffalo Writing Center’s Wordplay, and her artwork is to be displayed in the Albright Knox gallery this spring.
1 poem by Sage Enderton
junk angel
they called you “junk angel”
and gave you paper bags for wings
the kind that still smelled like a pull-tab can of
corner store beer. your halo was pieced
together with tape that barely stuck
anymore and twist ties from your mother’s favorite
grocery store, and you basked in it. you plucked
crinkled and greased plastic wrap from dumpsters
and called it sacred, called it
glory. you wanted to be holy. they found you
under the overpass. you would have called it
“heaven."