Emily Carr

She puts her wedding ring in a Bandaid box, her sundress flowers


(Underbelly; a perfect ankle, her body’s papery brown bud.)

A telephone pole gets repeated, & is music. (This isnt what I was

asking for this isnt, what I was asking for).

Your hunger breaks. (Zero at the bone.) Here Lord you pray


Buckshot, rose.

All distance, all breath: lions, loaves & fish, unicorns fill the room.

Inside that startled space, your hands like hot violets. Jesus she


How does a body do when burning. O Lord in your holy blank—.

Wait. Sip.

I tell you love neither begins nor ends; it only pretends to do so.

Cut the horizon’s tether. Face her

Emily Carr has published two books of poetry: directions for flying (Furniture Press 2010) and 13 Ways of Happily: Books 1 & 2 (Parlor Press 2011), the latter of which was chosen by Cole Swensen as the winner of the 2009 New Measures Prize. Excerpts from The Weights of Heaven, Emily’s autobiography-in-progress, were published in the Summer 2011 Adaptations Issue of The Western Humanities Review. For a video performance of excerpts from Name Your Bird Without a Gun, visit www.ifshedrawsadoor.com.

“‘nock end (n.)’: maybe the man driving, / smoking & singing / maybe the woman / on the edge of the porch / steeled / fleeing”