Emily As We Were Given a Room With a Balcony
Art is open-aired
& Emily is art.
I have seen her breasts
swing from the street
& known I wouldn’t have
to paint anything
ever again. I wrote this
poem only after
I took the blurry picture
from beneath her. I never
am able to quite frame her
without shaking.
Emily As the Light Folds Into Darkness
I used to claim
that Emily
could manipulate
physics,
but that was
when I was drinking
a lot.
Now, I know
she is the best kind
of witch.
I’ll let you know how
dark her magic gets
when she’s done
with me.
I’ll be that snap of light
willingly tucked,
folded into itself
to please her.
Emily As We Separate the Teeth From Our Smiles
The cure sauntered into our lives
& kissed us on the damn mouth
before we knew what it was.
I welcome the affection of any truth,
but Emily wasn’t so happy when she found
out that she would have to stop
drinking as well if we were to stay married.
She hasn’t stopped drinking
& we’re still married but she knows
exactly what that kiss meant. She knows
how to identify my body if it’s found outside
our house. That’s enough for her.
—
Darren C. Demaree is the author of eight poetry collections, most recently Two Towns Over, which was selected the winner of the Louise Bogan Award from Trio House Press. He is the recipient of a 2018 Ohio Arts Council Individual Excellence Award, and the Nancy Dew Taylor Award from Emrys Journal. He is the Managing Editor of the Best of the Net Anthology and Ovenbird Poetry. He is currently living in Columbus, Ohio with his wife and children.
Artwork by: Michelle Granville
Michelle Granville is a mixed media artist living in the west of Ireland. Her work has appeared in or is forthcoming in Dodging The Rain, Riggwelter Press, Telltale Chapbooks and Sad Girl Review among others.
Links
Twitter: @michellegranv
Instagram: @beleafmoon
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Artwork by: Michelle Granville