Sarah Sgro is the author of the full-length collection If The Future Is A Fetish (YesYes Books 2019), which won the 2020 IPPY Independent Voice Award. Sgro earned her MFA in Poetry from the University of Mississippi and is pursuing her Ph.D. in English at SUNY Buffalo, where she studies waste, queerness, and the future.

Books by Sarah Sgro:

Other poems on the web by Sarah Sgro:
Two poems
"Here There Are No Worms No Arthropods"
"I Wear My Man Out"
"Upon Inspection of These Sanctifying Portraits"
Three poems
"Body as a Plant Expanding"
Two poems
"[Hello from the future]"
Two poems

Sarah Sgro on Twitter.

About If The Future Is A Fetish:

"Why are the poet and the poem so toxic and damned? Because they are carriers, processing liquid flushed from pleasure and damage. Sgro is opening space inside toxicity. When the space is born an impure baby, the poet wants the baby. The baby is a fetus, a fetish, a trauma-processing plant, a poem. The poems within If The Future Is A Fetish rage, pull back, smash down. It's an open system. Sgro's thrilling, monstrous poems are coming to touch you."
—Catherine Wagner

"For trauma survivors, our futures eroticize that which we lived through, scored as we are by our bodies' pasts. Survival must affirm that future. In If The Future Is A Fetish, we experience a gravid violence, Sgro's speaker the queer anorexic mother pulsating meaning into 'basement operas” and 'tenderilous” growth. This is a psychosexual novel-in-verse, one displeased with its phenomenologies but chanting them anyway. It wretches in Plathian disgust; coats its throat in 2 mg of Xanax; and consumes its daughters with Goya-level anguish. Paperclips itch under wrist skin, women soak through their True Religion jeans, an assemblage of lovers—J., A., M., and X.—function as a Greek chorus of S.'s sexual failings; and still, 'the world returns like a dog to its vomit.” Rarely do I read a collection so succinct in its viscera, where there is a math to every gory line. How lucky am I to have read Sgro who writes with annihilating purpose about the body in absence, violation, vexation, abundance, and martyrdom. This debut collection is a lingual maelstrom, its music a steady waltz over the future's piss."
—Natalie Eilbert