a palm up and open
to the sky

the glass lip
of a wicked bottle

wheels that turn
toward spring

small things, small things
such small things
when autumn laid her first frost down
she did it early in the mornings
fields of newsprint
breaking stories

i could warm two pale hands
right there
right where the wires cross

how nice

i could still keep track
of who was the brick wall
and who was the ivy
commune, o lovers!
follow the stars!
your manna is not yet redeemed!

stand guard, lovers!
your sweet contraband
sets tired souls to envy!
emma jane page Dec 2017
one for each deep voice
one for every remark, snide, in passing
one for each neck craned, speaking down

the furnace is fed.

one for each space taken up
one for every conversation commandeered
one for each "sure about that?"

a round in the chamber

one for each man unaccustomed
to solid-footed women
armed with nothing less than
emma jane page Dec 2017
i am up on a ladder
scrambling the marquee letters

an anagram for new kid

i wanted to know about you
so i put up a sign about me

an anagram for tonight!
(got the hint!)
(hold on tight!)

i step back from the glow
backwards through traffic
in thursday's best
the best i've got

i don't mind the waiting
(thaw, ignite)
if you'll find me here

we could share your silence
like an umbrella
and you could turn and twist your letters
until they spoke to me too
(smoke poet)
emma jane page Nov 2017
born barefoot
lightning smack midsummer

thunder clap from
some miles away

grey eyed child
all the better to
fill with color
emma jane page Nov 2017
no one's ever called me anything like queen
sat at a table for many
snipping cannabis leaves
shedding something else too

and the blood drained
from my face
the trees drained
down to us,
the underbrush,
the creatures trailside

when the lacquer wore off
we started shedding something else

something so transparent
must be new,
looked through,
must stand to be clouded
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