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1 poem
by Emily Zuberec

Emily Zuberec is a writer based in Tiohtiá:ke/Mooniyang/Montréal. She has been published in Bad Nudes Magazine and is the editor of Commo Magazine.


distancing myself from beef, email, thick arms

and another oncoming blockchain

of polyamorous lovers, a calamitous windchime

hyacinths make me think of you coming back

biking back the way i came to get in your bed

working backwards to figure out which fuck got me pregnant

to return you must first leave

and you know i forget the clutch when i go into reverse




it's hard to recall when everything started to happen

maybe with sorrow at the pool hall in early afternoon

maybe under the canopy of new moon and wet money

jasmine blossoms can be so sweet

like waking up in the night

to the smell of my own rotten breath




there's no greater mischief than seeing

how electrically i want your

mouth to be my mouth

but don't get it twisted,

i still could eat you whole

papier mâché lanterns

congregating at the nexus my sternum

then i too could glow a glow like yours

in all my stupidity

this is what i find myself wanting

putrid blossoms




remind me again

that worry is hell and my ears are ringing

with bad luck like shade at the bottom of a bucket

listen, i just wanna slide around

in my bitchy white sandals

as close as i'll ever be

to the butter of my dreams

in a moment of me being more like you

both soles flicked off somewhere
in chacarita

and you really thought i would go back

to look for them later?

i know so little about the scales

you're the libra, afterall




people are so sexy when they drink alcohol

knowing someone is coming to find them

now pebbles get stuck in the heel of the right shoe

and i click through courtyards

for once this is the event

me making all sorts of sounds

the crack of rock on rock into river water

fortune is everywhere

and when you start to really listen

all good sounds

have silence near them

so i'll finally stop talking

please go back to sleep

i love you,

good night

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