By: Em/ilie Kneifel

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1

THAT’S A BIG UP I MEAN THE HARK IN MY THROAT WHY IS EVERYTHING DRIP IT DEPENDS ON THE LIGHT

2

I TRACE THE GUMS ALL SWEET I REMEMBER FORGETTING A FINGER LEAVES LITTLE PINK LINES IN MY MOUTH THE KIDS STICKING OUT OF A MOONROOF A DRIVEWAY THE MAN DROPPING SHOES ONE BY ONE

3

CHEWING THE RIND DOWN TO THE QUICK ER THAN EVER MY BACK COMING DOWN LIKE A DRAWBRIDGE TONGUE SLOSH SOCKS OF MY FEET AS THE SKY LIFTS THE MOTHER IN THE WAY OF MY MOTHER I CRIED WHEN I TRIED TO SPLIT THE MAGENTA I SQUEEZED MY BACK LIKE TWO PALMS TOGETHER I SQUEEZED MY PALMS LIKE SHE TAUGHT ME HEARTH SHE SAYS LIKE EARTH – HARSH SHE SAYS IT SHOULD HAVE RHYMED STERNUM PUSHING I TRY TO BE GREEN I ASK MY GREEN BREATH THE SUN IS THE HEAVIEST WEIGHT MY HANDS ARE THE WORST CONTAINER

4

SCALES OF SWEAT ON HER LEG  BARELY PLURAL  LIKE THE RAIN ON THE DAYLILY MY COUSIN TUCKED IN HER CHEEK  HONEYMOON  HONEYDEW  HONEYMOON MELTS   THERE IS NO LACE  IN BETWEEN 

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em/ilie kneifel is a sick slick, poet/critic, editor at The Puritan/Theta Wave, creator of CATCH/PLAYD8s, heartworms/blueberries, and also a list. find ’em at emiliekneifel.com, @emiliekneifel, and in Tiohtiá:ke, hopping and hoping.