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 Gigantic Sequins, Day One, Hobart, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, 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.
2 poems by Emily Corwin
across a flume of mist, I missed you, sweating like spit-roast suckling pig in a charmeuse nightslip, on a balcony, waiting to unbuckle you. my room collects a season: bucket bag, triple sec, fanny pack, cat sticker, washi tape, plate crumbs, slapped mosquito spew. low battery always. convinced I am dying always. instead of paying the electric, I buy a sheer romper, a pale kinderwhore dress. question: why would anyone buy cheese online? also: why is that something you can actually do? a slow phone charge, a payment made successfully, you can follow my lifetime anytime, you can click here for more.
my balconette bra pinches, I flinch under the underwire and cellophane webbing like an unhappy trout. there is nowhere to be loud and the crescent moon kept its eye on me, kept buying me gin & tonics with a sharp lime wedge, immaculately square ice. I crouch on the laminate, keeping still on my hind legs, hind wings. I keep silence. below the dress layers—a mud layer, droplet and horse comb, dripping weed, metabolism. you asked if I am like ordinary emotional or, like, really emotional? I think I am despondent, a soggy cheese danish. a roaring under the flooring of water or maybe wagons off to the brimstone. I heart you so much, please send me a reply.