Poetry, Words
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Poetry by Emma Kelly

The fall pt.1

mona rly fucked a ligament in her left leg attempting a heroically stupid skate trick last
weekend @ tompkins square park

her left leg is the leg w the butterfly tattoo
which is enormous and makes our mother cry whenever she catches it
between grimy cotton sock and raggedy denim hem

one of mona’s new friends stabbed it alive
on a rooftop under a fat enchanted moon
using a safety pin and india ink (– blick on myrtle)
alas : /
they didn’t poke deep enough into the veal of her calf; the result is faint and scabby
it looks sort of like it’s hovering ever-so-slightly above the flesh
sort of, if you squint hard enough
& are trying to find something to say to your sister to make her feel better about her ((crappy))

this morning
the surgeon sliced her wing to wing
like a deranged lepidopterist
and out onto his nice clean operating table spilled:
lemon seltzer
taki dust
cold brew
and #FF0000

cigarette ash too, but we hate poems that mention cigarettes


buzzfeed dating funny
I just want someone to look into my eyes and say
“isn’t this the greatest fukken burrito you’ve ever eaten in your entire life
isn’t this cheese so melty???
have a bite of mine”

Where is the best place
to stand
to smell the laundromat?

Who is
breaking your heart on the streetcar

Is your belly as soft and
as mine?

roll over and show me

I will let you in
on a secret:

I don’t care
it’s only
the (third) greatest burrito

I will let you let me let you in

will you?

Emma Kelly is 19 and is a sophomore at the University of Toronto. She is double majoring in Film and EnglishHer twin Sean has previously been published on Tunnel here. 


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