Em S. Austin

Author: Em

  • The Nature of Things

    “light of the world, hold me” -Mary Oliver 

    Looming Tree, remind me to breathe. 

    Brave Birds, sing a chorus to me 

    something I can hold inside. 

    Bright Blossoms teach me how to grow stronger, 

    and color me as bright as you. 

    Creatures of prey, remind me I am not weak,

    standing open in the light. 

    Bright Tomatoes show me how to burst open, 

    so not to hold so much inside. 

    Dropping seeds remind me how to move on. 

    There are new locations to visit. 

    Howling Wolves teach me the song of pain and renewal,

    a pack at your side to fall on. 

    Shining Sun guide me to wake up, 

    and find your undying light there. 

    Falling Rain, show me how to fall and rise 

    again, wiser for it. 

    I am no longer afraid of the downpour. 

    Nor am I scared of the warm moon, casting it’s shadow. 

    It’s the nature of things. 

  • Swallowing

    My thoughts scatter like moths

    search for the Joe-pye weeds. Here I am 

    sipping Diet relief a bottle

    to be crushed. I find time– 

    a compression vest, straight 

    jacket tightened, fear pulsing 

    SodaStream leaking. 

    Daunting the release of my mind

    it’s fear onto you, So might it slip through 

    your palms. I can inhale

    the carbon electrons 

    of your love–

    the essence a blended palette

    licked clean.

    When we’re home

    Longing for Peace tea

    I can drink your lips like 

    lemonade and hear you 

    breathing through my neck 

    Wondering what love can heal 

    but you hold me so tight 

    I can’t stop shaking light

    Plastic fiz, sipping you– 

    my whole life. Heart, king 

    of my blood. Whimpering

    at the warm taste 

    of your liquid lightning. The Clymene 

    waits for me

    to swallow the 

    scintillant apple whole.

  • Mallard

    In a matter of years I watched

    the Mallards play over the moss covered

    stream, tuning my small ears 

    to the sound of great nature. 

    The kind that is not still, or serene

    as some might think, 

    but wonderous in how it speaks. 

    Quacking my feet to movement 

    jetting from the bank to the cool

    streams, I like to think I move

    with the grace I tried to imitate 

    a hungry animal finding breadcrumbs

    keep moving young girl

    find what keeps you afloat. 

    Pitter patter, hold your tongue 

    as you must.

  • For Ronnie, to the Anew

    April was a cyclonic 

    return of your hands 

    between my lips deliberate

    converse to that cool Autumn 

    where the red leaves died 

    shaken to forgo memory 

    here we stand in foot breaths 

    toe to toes gently nudge

    to a new unknown, yielding 

    my agony like stipules half-grown

    my heart a compressing 

    feverish thing. 

    Stand on the outside 

    know just how fragile hearts 

    can be. Vapor between our teeth

    echoing fear like a compound 

    a drug, this confession. 

    So might we see the light beyond light

    the darker dark. To the mystery of forgiving 

    and the pitter patter of rekindled love.