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.
jasmine
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