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abecedarian with sexual tension
Emily Corwin
Writer of the Month


are you running to someplace that
beckons you? in the wild yonder, where I

crackle, the lungs of me blooming silver in the
dimness, riverbed gone out. should we meet then at

evening? under coxcomb and swollen,
filled with asking for each other, asking whether

goodness can be taught, whether this is right. and
how do you heal yourself, my dear?

I remember what you are—scab, totem,
juniper on the side of this house. do you make me

kind? would you like to reach between my doors—
lurid as a milksnake? I break every promise

made once to myself, in the darkening, dark
now, and my blackberries are burnt. I put fire

on the table, the rosewood made soft and
pinkish. I long to be among your

quiet plants, your neck unclothed, your wrist and
rhubarb, the red thorny vine coiling,

smoked in you—a heat that pulls, dragging anyone
toward it, toward being raptured,

unmade by your finger tips, undone my ribs,
vertebrae—scraped, used like a

whetstone. it is scary, to live like this, under the
x-ray machines, everything visible in my

young chest—a threshold. enter me between a
zillion bright rooms, all at once hushing.


originally appeared in Noble/Gas Qtrly

Emily Corwin is an MFA candidate in poetry at Indiana University-Bloomington and the former Poetry Editor for Indiana Review. Her writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Black Warrior Review, Gigantic Sequins, New South, Yemassee, THRUSH, and elsewhere. She has two chapbooks, My Tall Handsome (Brain Mill Press) and darkling (Platypus Press) which were published in 2016. Her first full-length collection, tenderling is forthcoming in 2018 from Stalking Horse Press. You can follow her online at @exitlessblue.