arrangements

beneath stippled sky
willfully forgetting
your porch last night

you folded
beside me
pointing to Polaris,

steeped in wind,

you offered Shakespearean rations
for my ravenous mind

stinging

better not to be
when cells are seared by thirsty lips
sought-after
spoken for

Left-Overs

This morning,
over glutinous oatmeal,
I thought about last night.

Your irritation over lasagna
left congealing on the counter,
instead of tucked away for tomorrow
reminded me of fairy tales we read our children.
Families subsisting on two beans,

one shriveled radish
divided into fourths,

hope
for Herculean beanstalks
to emerge from fallow clay

while we forge mountains
from last week’s left-overs

Emma Hall

Emma Hall lives with her family in the rural Southern United States. She spends her days educating her children, ruminating, and chasing poetry. The poetry often outruns her. Her poems have appeared in, or are forthcoming from, Tuck Magazine and Red River Review. More of her work can be found at her blog 'Poesie Pockets and Papercuts'.