eMerge Magazine - Spring 2022

The Family Farmhouse by Jamie Lynn Heller
I’d loved the time spent learning to ride a horse, to preserve tomatoes from the garden, watching Cicadas unfold themselves from their shells. There were always kittens in the barn in the spring, iced tea brewing in the sunshine from the kitchen window, but my grandparents are gone, buried an entire state away. The house and surrounding acres managed by their children and fought over and divided and sold and fought over until just the house remains and the patch of lawn around it, and she wants

Spring 2022Issue 14: Spring 2022 & Table of Contents

A Bone of Contention with the Ghost of John Lennon over Strawberry Fields Forever by Ruth Weinstein
last year I turned each unripe berry’s curve to the sun, creeping through a single row; their red hearts and green leaves dotted by starry blooms. they were few enough. there was time for such indulgent care and contemplation. this year with mother plants settled in rich soil, the unruly daughters run amok by the dozens, march-dancing fifty feet in and out of a quadruple-wide row, their leaves in mudras of ecstatic hand jive, declaring their wild passions. i crawl on hands and knees, between b

The Rupture/The Silence by simone j. banks
The classroom breathes warm vanilla sugar first chill of winter fogs the windows cloudy come for one of us, come for us all: a poster warns across the room a teacher asks for silence the students instead flouting wildflowers in a circle, the black girls outnumber the black boys who scatter to outnumber the brown boys who outnumber no one speaking Spanish to themselves some of the black girls sit pretty and neat some of the black girls sit wide and long and some curl tightly in a desk too small

Kiss Bye Kate by Kate Kaiser
I feel a little stuck, as stuck as a golden goddess of goodness gets. I keep telling myself, all is part of the journey. I pushed myself this past month, less time for reflection, my body and spirit feel vulnerable. I long for familiarity, for connection, for a hello-hello-hello returned. My friend Lynn called. Left a message to have a great trip. I exist to somebody else. I am thought of, she is thoughtful. Bob feels so far away. Almost as if, when was he here? Can’t remember when I last cried

The Family Farmhouse by Jamie Lynn Heller
I’d loved the time spent learning to ride a horse, to preserve tomatoes from the garden, watching Cicadas unfold themselves from their shells. There were always kittens in the barn in the spring, iced tea brewing in the sunshine from the kitchen window, but my grandparents are gone, buried an entire state away. The house and surrounding acres managed by their children and fought over and divided and sold and fought over until just the house remains and the patch of lawn around it, and she wants

A Bone of Contention with the Ghost of John Lennon over Strawberry Fields Forever by Ruth Weinstein
last year I turned each unripe berry’s curve to the sun, creeping through a single row; their red hearts and green leaves dotted by starry blooms. they were few enough. there was time for such indulgent care and contemplation. this year with mother plants settled in rich soil, the unruly daughters run amok by the dozens, march-dancing fifty feet in and out of a quadruple-wide row, their leaves in mudras of ecstatic hand jive, declaring their wild passions. i crawl on hands and knees, between b

The Rupture/The Silence by simone j. banks
The classroom breathes warm vanilla sugar first chill of winter fogs the windows cloudy come for one of us, come for us all: a poster warns across the room a teacher asks for silence the students instead flouting wildflowers in a circle, the black girls outnumber the black boys who scatter to outnumber the brown boys who outnumber no one speaking Spanish to themselves some of the black girls sit pretty and neat some of the black girls sit wide and long and some curl tightly in a desk too small

Kiss Bye Kate by Kate Kaiser
I feel a little stuck, as stuck as a golden goddess of goodness gets. I keep telling myself, all is part of the journey. I pushed myself this past month, less time for reflection, my body and spirit feel vulnerable. I long for familiarity, for connection, for a hello-hello-hello returned. My friend Lynn called. Left a message to have a great trip. I exist to somebody else. I am thought of, she is thoughtful. Bob feels so far away. Almost as if, when was he here? Can’t remember when I last cried

The Family Farmhouse by Jamie Lynn Heller
I’d loved the time spent learning to ride a horse, to preserve tomatoes from the garden, watching Cicadas unfold themselves from their shells. There were always kittens in the barn in the spring, iced tea brewing in the sunshine from the kitchen window, but my grandparents are gone, buried an entire state away. The house and surrounding acres managed by their children and fought over and divided and sold and fought over until just the house remains and the patch of lawn around it, and she wants

Famous Poets

Robin Metz

The Color Green

Steps to Freedom

Secrets

Salina, Kansas

She Asked

Rain Delay, diminished

Rain Delay, impermeable

Rain Delay, temps suspendu

Rain Delay #2

Peach Blossom Spring: On A Painting by Tao Chi

The Year of the Mattress

Who is At the Door Now?

Blessing

The Family Farmhouse

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