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Elise Emilia Mar 2015
Engulfed in frost
Heart still beating, hardly living

Keep moving
Run...... to stand still in a field
Of forgotten bitterness
Alone with fog and absent joy

Outside, Spring flourishes over Winter
Smothered wool stuffed in an attic
Thick colors of regrowth reveal its end.
Elise Emilia Mar 2015
But you said nothing could stay

I did

In a constant state of free fall

Paused


and shaking
Unstuck in air

Suspended by the time it took you to realize I left
The last time you ever got to see me

And I was already gone.
Elise Emilia Mar 2015
Do not hurl a ball at someone’s head for pleasure
The innocent will cry, dazed with distress
Fainting, falling in central park

The neighbors have a donkey named Herald,
Asleep in their bathtub after 7PM, call 911
Dreaming, screaming in Oklahoma

To sell one’s own eyeball in Texas is to make
An appointment with a future inmate
Humiliating and need some bailing
Elise Emilia Mar 2015
The sun spies on the city and burns under its gaze.
Blushing
Workers bake in the heat of the day while constructing a new site for the sick. Their shrill drills bust up loose chunks of gravel and dirt, releasing an abundance of debris that surf the breeze. A lucid hummingbird soars beyond the commotion.
So sudden.
It towers over skyscrapers with a youthful heart, emulating the shivering helicopter that slashes the sky above.
How rewarding that bird’s life must be to have sustained through its years with a heart like a jackhammer, steadily bashing against its ruby *****. The overwhelming core within its fragile, willow form strives to move, to breathe, to swiftly drain nectar from budding botanicals.
What a satisfying life, so rich, so fulfilling. And yet-
Exhausting
Like pressed petals amid pages, its wings begin to tear.
Struggling
And for once, its jackhammer begins to falter. Has it been granted a break? Perhaps it could be a reward for its burden? Alas, it stops, mid-flight.
Falling
Falling
To
Float.
To
Transition
To
Be
Still
Meanwhile, workers below the smog consider their watches for break. The resonating sound of that aching jackhammer goes unnoticed.

Even concrete breaks under pressure
Elise Emilia Mar 2015
Saturated streets
reflect smudged rain that smells like
the sharp taste of blood.
Elise Emilia Feb 2015
Curved succulent stacks
of spongy golden flapjacks  
drizzled with sappy
syrup, begging for butter.
-Lotsa love, Aunt Jemima
Elise Emilia Feb 2015
A confined finch cried.
How insistent it was to
have ruptured the wind
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