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the last, laced sip. by Emma Maar

from East French Press: Poetry Power Hour by East French Press



The last, laced sip.

I peer through windows, to observe movement;
the slice of knives and lips to touch.

An orange silhouette of rigid and dark branches,
intertwines with the reflection of my heated eyes.

A jagged red outlines your limbs,
reminding me of the woman I am.

As I peer through kitchens, I learn about tongues which taste like salty tomatoes.

Breath like wet lavender and wine,
I learn when the words are lost.

Watching you,
watching me,

I become a shattered memory.

A crystalized version of myself is never silent,

it screams in languages of deep tension
and unimaginable light.

It waits for you to shake.


from East French Press: Poetry Power Hour, released April 25, 2021




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