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Sally Albiso

Sally Albiso

Light Entering My Bones


Sally Albiso earned a BA in Spanish from UCLA and an MA in English with a creative writing emphasis from San Diego State University. While at SDSU, she studied with the poets Glover Davis and Carolyn Forché and completed a thesis of her own poetry.

After receiving her master’s degree, she taught English composition, creative writing, and English as a Second Language at Chapman College, San Diego State University Extension, and Southwestern College.

In 2003, Albiso and her husband moved from California to the North Olympic Peninsula of Washington State, where she returned to writing poetry.

She has been nominated for two Pushcart Prizes and received the Jeanne Lohmann Poetry Prize, The Muriel Craft Bailey Memorial Award, the Robert Frost Foundation Poetry Award, and the Camber Press Chapbook Award for her chapbook Newsworthy. Two other chapbooks, The Notion of Wings and The Fire Eater and the Bearded Lady, were published by Finishing Line Press in 2015 and 2016. Her poems have appeared in Blood Orange Review, Common Ground Review, Crab Creek Review, Floating Bridge Review, Poetica, Pontoon: an anthology of Washington State poets, Rattle, The Comstock Review , and other publications.

Read a review of Light Entering My Bones by Bethany Reid

Sally's poem "Wildfire" from Moonless Grief was featured on Verse Daily

Read more of Sally's poetry online, featured at BoomerLit Mag.

Sally passed away in 2019, with her loving husband John by her side.


LIght Entering My Bones: $16.00

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Poem from Light Entering My Bones

Birthday Card

We’re now the same age, your spine collapsing
while my hips weaken.
So much brittle in us, we could splinter like glass
and shine among rocks
until someone collects our shards,
pale as fog among the amber
of broken bottles. We could be swallowed by gulls
and taken to sea in their crops, still sharp enough
to slice or tumbled to a milky finish
like eyes veiled by cataracts.
We could stoop beneath
the weight of years,
forced to turn our heads to see peripherally,
call to each other
in the voices of prophets
and predict what our bones will do next.
I enclose a gift of powdered marrow.
Put it in tea to thicken
against fracturing.
When you visit, we’ll walk the beach
and look for ourselves among the shattered.

Light Entering My Bones


Moonless Grief: $15.00

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Poem from Moonless Grief

When You Visit

firs dim against a drifting sky, crows beat west
eclipsing the horizon. A hush sifts
down the hall. Night fills the breaches
between trees, a lunar crescent ascending

like an illustration in the stories you read me,
earth listing. The next morning
fog lifts like a memory slowly unveiling.
Blue herons stalk the shore stabbing at water

as if it were flesh through which flesh is pulled
delivered into light from a fluid darkness.
Kingfishers kite with a nervous energy like yours.
I ask if you remember dancing

with abandon spinning me into shadow
then sun, our faces transparent as the eggs
I incubated for school waiting for cracks
to appear. Each stumbling chick

we placed into a cushioned box later found
dead, necks broken when they tried to escape
their cardboard nest. How we knew even then
we couldn’t save each other.

Moonless Grief