Emily Jern-Miller

3 poems

**


after thorough thirst becomes varnished forest

There, ice dubs over our mouthfuls
of short story titles and currents.

My missing understanding
for eclair regions. Possibly

those seals know little of dust
mobiles. Coated or teeming

multitudes of them fit into two eyes
with the same ease as a pavilion.

My inward complexion rides
a foolish harbor. Additionally,

the thinnest membrane falls
between home pigment and woe.

**


occasions when belfry means holding


A stop sign conveys our relationship
to image, distance, and here
is when we notice a flock of leaving.

There are moments we forget we live
in a country. We say we are
bucketed; loose leaf.

A strategy, fragrance, or the act of allowing.
There are pockets to follow.
Those sounds not much thicker

than a slant of rice never learn how to sink.

**


dear orchard, fastened


Impact inside
every yard.

I am comparing weight
of an antelope

skeleton against a predictable
crease.

How a warmth interval
bends

in on its own
stem.

**

return to sawbuck 4.4

**
Emily Jern-Miller is a recent MFA graduate from Petaluma, California. She thinks at http://www.imagesforsarah.blogspot.com.