Monday, March 31, 2014

NEW! Poem by Emari DiGiorgio

Emari DiGiorgio


Your daughter is out in the world. Not quite lost,
though the stretch of cerebral highway she’s been driving along 

has been washed out in a storm. Sudden rain, flash blood 
pressure. You’re on your knees now. Every surface is a map: 
the Berber carpet, your husband’s face. If you could find
the trail of crumbs, a strand of hair. But the brain is forest, 

desert, glacier, gorge. You stumble in the new moon dark. 

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