A bell for alertness, a bell for barnacled dust.
There is a difference between ink and open.
All clouds resonate in memory lather.
Before you left, caribou filaments customizing
your necessary heart-coat restrained light.
Provided a bed of blinking pebbles for each answer
worth collapsing. Because your curious spiral worth
brightening a sleeve turned thin as wattage.
Same tea cup, technique waking ankles, landing
giving way to unsettled forest. Still every bolt
gripped in mirror sings tall antlers. To a voyager
this song appears as leaning rope.
Emily Jern-Miller's work has recently appeared in Sawbuck, E Ratio, Everyday Genius, and is forthcoming from H_NGM_N. Her first chapbook, you are not a bird, is due out at the end of this year from Dancing Girl Press.