Two Poems by Emma Miller

Dec 20th, 2018 | By | Category: Poetry

I no longer help people professionally

for I just so prefer to discuss
myself. sometimes,
when patient Twelve gets whiney,
I jab her with
my pen – once –
twice –
“why are you doing this?”
– again.
I say it’s the East Coast technique. sometimes,
I vaguely hit on
my divorcing couples.
it’s good to have a common enemy. Sometimes
when Twelve is going on
and on
and on
about the Disorder,
I lean in
very close
and whisper, “Twelve,
you’re just so brave
to wear your hair
like that.”
that usually shuts
her up.

The Upper West Swipe

My Tinder date is nothing like the sun—
That sun that moves at a knowable hour.
He texts in scattershot, a Gatling gun
Loves to think in uncertainty, there’s power.

He’s less reliable than my Prime shipments
And yet we’ll never truly face a breakup.
For we’re not into “labels,” or commitment.
Won’t disrupt the high romance of, “heyy (two y’s), u up?”

And when we fail to meet at happy hour,
With him on Lex and I on Amsterdam,
I know he’ll simply Uber to my bower,
To make out to Hitch or Silence of the Lambs.

How will I leave thee? Of course I’d count the ways,
But I’ve got a thing in the morning. So sorry, love—
                                                                                        can’t stay.


Emma Miller (@preemmanence) is a writer and editor in New York City. Her fiction has recently appeared in Daily Science Fiction, Molotov Cocktail Literary Magazine, and Apparition Literary Magazine. Her fact has appeared in Time, Money, Forbes, USA Today, CB Insights, and other similar outlets.


Comments are closed.