I am on the front porch of a blue house, salting
the ground with the corpses of spent
cigarettes. I blow tendrils of smoke toward
the leafy crops in the fields across the road,
a sea greener than the sea,
and my mouth tastes like ash,
or like someone else's mouth. The evening
sun outlines the trees against the sky, and grit
and dirt is blown in from the cotton fields
that have always seemed so far away.
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About The Author
Renee Emerson's work has appeared in Tar River Poetry, Keyhole Publications, Sojourn, and Decomp magazine. She is currently an MFA student at Boston University, and living outside the city with her husband and two cats.
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