emilie kneifel
when light felt like the end of some grief, the snow mostly melted so there was only the world, the world, with all of its thudding and distances, should’ve known when maman texted it’s time to make cake and the batter stuck to our mouths for a week, but it wasn’t until i rode through a puddle and traced out a shadow, it wasn’t until there were shadows, and people, outside and looking, at a window, the gutter, the stroll of the clouds, but it wasn’t until i looked and there was a kid in a tree, and another rattling a sled in a driveway, wasn’t until their cries sounded not unlike seagulls that i realized if i’m not writing the poem i’m in it, and something rose in me the way other things sink
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em kneifel is a poet/critic, editor at The Puritan/Theta Wave, creator of CATCH/PLAYD8s, heartworms/blueberries, and also a list. find ‘em at emiliekneifel.com, @emiliekneifel, and in Tiohtiá:ke, hopping and hoping
