I'm finding you in the snow again
and I can't seem
to stop
chewing on
my bottom lip

in worry
out of habit

I don't know anymore

Some slightly chapped "I love you"s
"I'm sorry"s, and "I need you"s
curl around my ugly Midwest winter;
drift in and out of the sleeves of my coat
and the skeletons of these poor trees
dust-colored oak leaves
shivering boxelder branches
("Acer negundo...")

I want to sleep, just like them
Breathe backwards
Keep still
Rooted firmly
Nice, calm, steady

But I can't

I'm still waiting
(somewhat impatiently)
To pluck your, "I'm here now, love."
Your, "It's okay."
Your, "Kiss me?"
Right from your mouth

Before you can even say it.

It never felt like the first time.
The way your hands rested on my waist
Was so familiar
Your lips on my neck was tradition
There was never a first time
My legs have been wrapped around you since
You, and I, and the earth were indistinguishable star dust.

And it didn’t matter that I didn’t know you
Because I was so comfortable
When there was nothing to hear but the small stutter in your breath

And I don’t mind that you aren’t here anymore
Because in the darkness it’s easy to pretend
That clocks don’t exist
But right now with the sun in my eyes,
I can tell myself there’s a time and a place for everything

And it’s okay that there is so much left to say
That won’t ever be said
Because I can’t tell them how it felt
To breathe you in
Or how I couldn’t stop my fingers from gliding through your hair
It’s okay that there aren’t words to do our night justice
Because this doesn’t exist for
All the other souls to know
How my body trembled in perfect response to your gentle force,
These words are for me
So I can remember the shocking comfort of hot finger tips
On my flesh.

Inhale, Exhale, Repeat.
Close your bright eyes, they say too much.
Don’t speak, you can’t change anything.
Inhale, Exhale, Repeat. As if you are sleeping.

Stretch your body as far as you can.
Make it bigger, longer,
like you have spent your life in a smaller man’s coffin.

Be still.
Don’t blink, don’t part your trembling lips, don’t move your toe three quarters of an inch.
Be still.

Scream. LOUDER. Softer.
Scream as high as you can. Louder. You have to scream to save your life. SCREAM.

Stop.
Don’t Speak. You can’t change anything.

Look into your eyes in the mirror.
Keep looking, you can’t back down.
Don’t blink, keep looking.
Keep looking.

Blink. Blink again.
More. Faster.
Blink until you can’t see anything anymore
until you are blind

Stop.
Clench your fists. Grit your teeth. Flex your muscles.
Your arms, your legs, your toes.
Make your body tight.
Tight.
Tight.

Release.
Melt.
Collapse.
Be liquid.
Don’t speak, you can’t change anything.

you kissed my neck and I began to seep into a pile of hot candle wax; melting and hardening all the while. you cleaned me up and tried to mold me into what I once was but I knew that I would never be the same candle that warmed you up. when I am with you my fire seems to flicker with a certain nervousness and then you kiss my neck and I begin to fall apart once again.

she got used to writing about his eyes, the color of bath water and how she wanted to bathe in them, the poet's cliché.

until he left her and she realized they weren't pale purple or pale blue or translucent: they were stormy gray like a volcano with a flaring red rim similar to lava. each blink brought upon an eruption of mass proportions and he cried dark ashes.

For my brother, Martin

I'm going to sling your memory
over my shoulder
back pack you round the world

slide you on to station platforms
alongside the passing panorama of footsteps
that echo on that slice of cold cement

tuck you into airplane lockers
overhead the sleeping flyers
in that metal coffin in the ice cream clouds

nestle you among bus luggage
beneath the picture windows
and the ribbon racing road

I will unpack you in every village
every town and every city
in every land and nation

on every continent and land mass
crossing the oceans and seas
catching every wave and tide

circling the earth on winds and breezes
following sunsets and solar eclipses
and every cycle of the moon

until I find a place of resting
until I find a place of peace
until I find a place of peace

© M.L.Emmett

Dead voices in the head
of a frightened madman

starts humming like electric wires
in wild winter storms.

bursting and cracking like melting ice
in a warm spring thaw

insistent, pollen-drunk bees
buzzing round hot summer hives

grumbling and gathering
swirling eddies of autumn leaves

dancing schizophrenic death
in the breath of city streets.

© M.L.Emmett