Side Step

He was growing in
side me
I felt his elbow jab
my diaphragm I
t breathe as his
tender foot punctured a
collapsing lung
I needed him
evacuated sucked
dry me quietly weeping on
a stretcher covered
in paper
Where is my mother?
Am I mother now?
When does the title
begin and
when does it trail off
As the wheels of the gurney
glide toward engine room
As the forgiving eyes of
young nurse ask you to count
from ten
When does m/otherhood end
When is my body mine
alone again
Can I go home and
light a candle now
shaken relieved mourning
a forgotten cell
dank and multiplying
like virus
reeling of you
reeking of an
unfetchable loss
Grant Me Mercy
I am fucking free again



"I wanted to kiss you hard" Or, Missent Texts

A deleted cosmic 
flippant trail of 
spewing digital archival 
whirls about present and 
unauthorised grasping

The evidence of an affair is 
hurriedly hushed is 
swept under a quiet 
apartment bed 
But what if we gathered the 
quotations the 
sunlight that bathed 
the sheets the forgotten 
sweaters the stolen 
kisses in angular hallways 
and filed them in 
Public Record 
to bear our sins clean to 
hold up our misspelled affection 
and say, 
"Here is where It All Began, 
Here and Why and How."

If we catalogued the 
remnants the 
Thai food receipts 
then maybe we'd have more 
than deleted messages 
than despairing 
dispatched information 
how can we burn 
fragments of 
zeros and ones 
how can I kick 
a lost 
text in the

Copyright © a contemplation (Emily Jones) 2013. All rights reserved.