By Darren C. Demaree

EMILY AS I FOUND THE FISH FOSSIL IN ADENA BROOK

The children were elsewhere& I wanted a million yearswith Emily, so we numbered the nakedness of each flatstone that had risen abovethe shallow water, so we gave each other the beautiful ones& on the back of what Emilywouldn’t put back down, there was a faint outline of deathremembered for far longerthan expected.  She put the unmarked side againstmy cheek.  She held it there.She pocketed the moment. 

EMILY AS A BIRD THE SIZE OF MY THUMB

We have small hungers.We are gentle with each other.We sing delicate songs. We fly amidst the bright things.We fly amidst the dead things.We are quiet most of the time. We could be folded into nothing.We’re counting on that.We want to be folded into each other. We want to disappear.We want to leave no mark.We’re betting on our children. 

EMILY AS A CLICK OF HER TEETH

 A copper bellin each of her pockets,I listen for Emily to settle& I listen for herto open her mouth. There is so much musicthat doesn’t matter.I want her voice & the un-steadymoments I can give herput into simple sentences.