21.2.24

Two Poems by Emma Grey Rose

REMOTE AREAS
 
white withering globes of light that float above flowers, blooming. planted seasons, seasons wilting, death, light, snow on—tree branches, leaves, veil of—sun. weak strains of pink light falling on—blankets of white, heaven.



WHERE THE YELLOW RAIN FALLS

 

There are clouds in the sky that are violent. I have the steering wheel. Yes, it is strange, I say. You told me this would happen. I am talking to you. The seats are all empty. The car drives along, under the clouds, the ones that are violent. It does so even when I lift my foot, forgetting to set it back down. The sky is dark. There is a burst of lightning, which is sudden. It is cold. Up ahead is a patch of black and green. I talk aloud, looking through the windshield. The wipers are slow to work. The wipers get stuck. Do you think it will let up? I ask. Should I pull off? The windows are down. There is rain. You do not talk back. The seats are all empty. I think of where to go. Perhaps off the cliff? I ask. The roads here, they are open. You know I love you, I say. You know I miss you, I say. The clouds are violent. Perhaps off the cliff? I ask.

2.2.24

Keep going by K Weber

The parade goes by the house

that is not my house. Pushing

past this crowd are hundreds

of feet trying to escape one

hour of conversation. Fire

trucks and police light homes

dimly in the daytime. They wave

along with synchronized motor-

cycles, whoops of emergency. I

can’t get off the curb because

I am deteriorating. My calves have

thickened from too much sunlight

and the salt of one breakfast. The

alcoholics I know go jogging

and landscape their yards. I nearly

fall into the first clarinet I see

in the marching band because my

heart has a dizzy signal. I am sober

but the chaos of local politicians

and beauty queens leaves me

sweating sickness. A child drives

an old child-sized replica of a Thunder-

bird. It is baby blue like my anti-

nausea pills. The beat of my city

trudges on with signs and candy

and I am laying on the grass

trying not to die while there are

pores surrounding me that ooze

beer before noon. I long to be

heard but hurt. I settle for being

carried through the rest of my life

on a float made of my own soft

tissue paper.

 

K Weber