Darren Demaree (6 poems)
EMILY AS SHE MAKES THE CLAIM THAT ALL FLESH IS GOLD
Really, all she
was saying
is that she is
willing to drag
her teeth
against
anything
I consider
to be valuable.
It was a joke
I think. Anyway,
she was laughing
when she said it.
Emily might be
hilarious.
EMILY AS WE GUESS THE COUNT
It’s all passage,
but we have a lot of fun keeping
our own memories.
EMILY AS SYNCOPE
I prefer
the tumbledown
of a woman
who never asks
me to catch her.
I still do,
but she objects
consciously
to my willing
arms being used
to hold her up
when they could
be carrying
our children.
It’s difficult.
She’s difficult.
I am alive
in her difficulty.
EMILY AS THE BOAT IS ON FIRE
I knew there was an ocean
beneath us. I just wanted
to show off
for Emily.
It was a temporary desire
with permanent consequences.
I had no idea
she could breathe for both us.
I should have guessed
that my performance
required her actual context
to exist fully in this reality.
EMILY AS EACH SOUND IS A PRAYER
Whatever gave
Emily a voice
is a god to me.
EMILY AS I REJECT THE SMELL OF LICORICE
I’m not going back to Duluth.
I’d happily live in Superior
for the rest of time. Senses
are complicated. I lost Emily,
the taste of her, the memory
of the taste of her, in Duluth.
All the poets there drank
a cider that smelled like licorice
to me. Fuck the smell of licorice.
Darren Demaree's poems have appeared, or are scheduled to appear in numerous magazines/journals, including Hotel Amerika, Diode, North American Review, New Letters, Diagram, and the Colorado Review. He is the author of ten poetry collections, most recently "Lady, You Shot Me" (December 2018), which was published by 8th House Publishing. He is the Managing Editor of the Best of the Net Anthology and Ovenbird Poetry. He is currently living and writing in Columbus, Ohio with his wife and children.