TV still humming, rips
in her stocking, a poem
or two scratched on the
nightstand.
in her stocking, a poem
or two scratched on the
nightstand.
Blurring his face, she
remembered his lines,
escorting her home, on
the D train,
buying her gum from the
stand by the stall with the
stink of the bathroom.
Comatose, retching, her hair
in a knot of dark grey reminder -
Meet Arianna.
Her “go to” - tequila
minus the sunrise.
When not writing poetry, Emalisa Rose enjoys crafting and drawing with charcoals. She volunteers in animal rescue. Living by a beach town provides much of the inspiration for her art. Her work has appeared in Beatnik Cowboy, Spillwords and other fine places. Her latest collection is "On the whims of the crosscurrents," published by Red Wolf Editions.
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