Arsenic Lobster
poetry journal |
Issue Eighteen Winter 2008 |
Abdomen Almanac for my sister Emily Jern-Miller Skin gathers itself as a shield. For months a knotty membrane received my kicks. A horizontal scar became my horizon. You were discovered years before by a scalpel who's direction was uncharted. You were retrieved shut-eyed from a jagged wound. Mom says you were sleeping when they raised you to tears and glare. But I know blade's angle chainsaw shook. I know yours was twisted rupture. When my horizon split, it was blooming sunrise. Salty relief. Walls lifted apart in easy snaps. I paddled across the whole morning to tell you. |
About Emily Jern-Miller |