eMerge Magazine

The Sirens of the Buffalo River by Ruth Weinstein
The androgynous sirens of the Buffalo River— they are not female destroying angels— appear to me in the full moon light around alternate bends in the river. They take the form of loose-limbed, fluid-dancing otters dressed in miles and miles of light-spangled, flowing black silk. Dip your hands into their essence, the water, warm as a sensory deprivation tank. But no sensory deprivation here, only full sensory immersion in holy water. Lower your whole body into their embrace and allow them to wr

Summer 2022Issue 15: Summer 2022

Anatomy and Physiology by Dani Kuntz
When I die, I don’t want the cat’s papillae to tear me apart. I don’t want my flesh to be stripped from my bones. I don’t want the maggots that gather in Henry’s pocket to burrow into my orifices. I want the cat to smell the decay rising from my body. I want it to walk in its prints so as not to wake me up. I want it to pass through my skeleton wherever its head can fit.

Our Stories by Dirk van Nouhuys
Mark told the story of Fred, how he sank when the light came. Fred told the story of Mary when she continued to sweep up the dead birds at the foot of the high wall. Mary told the story of Mark when he had cheerfully hidden the future. Mark told the story of Fred facing beyond the skies when the light folded. Fred told the story of Mary patiently listening to him. Mary told the story of Fred, but he was not listening. Fred and Mark touched tongues and told the story of Mary passing between them.

Wombs by Jamie Lynn Heller
How many molecular functions were swiped up by dust rags from behind the cookie jar, thesis statements spun around mixing bowls with room temperature butter and vanilla, legal challenges that couldn’t escape Monday’s mopping even tucked under the bottom edge of the cabinet, peace-talks threaded and stitched into new curtains, full minds swept the front porches before 8am each day, soothed teething infants while daydreaming in binary The spring I graduated college she took my hand in one of hers

Kindness by John L. Swainston
Walking down the circular path to the vaulted room – Radiation treatment soon. Turning the corner, she looked up smiling at me. She just finished her treatment. Seven or eight, I think. Snuggled in her arm, she carried a Teddy Bear. “Does that help?” I asked. She smiled, “Yes.” The next day walking the path there he was, sitting on the hand rail – her Teddy Bear. “Oh no, look she forgot her bear.” “No, she didn’t.” I looked at my guide confused. “No, she left him for you.” My Dad always tol

The Sirens of the Buffalo River by Ruth Weinstein
The androgynous sirens of the Buffalo River— they are not female destroying angels— appear to me in the full moon light around alternate bends in the river. They take the form of loose-limbed, fluid-dancing otters dressed in miles and miles of light-spangled, flowing black silk. Dip your hands into their essence, the water, warm as a sensory deprivation tank. But no sensory deprivation here, only full sensory immersion in holy water. Lower your whole body into their embrace and allow them to wr

Anatomy and Physiology by Dani Kuntz
When I die, I don’t want the cat’s papillae to tear me apart. I don’t want my flesh to be stripped from my bones. I don’t want the maggots that gather in Henry’s pocket to burrow into my orifices. I want the cat to smell the decay rising from my body. I want it to walk in its prints so as not to wake me up. I want it to pass through my skeleton wherever its head can fit.

Our Stories by Dirk van Nouhuys
Mark told the story of Fred, how he sank when the light came. Fred told the story of Mary when she continued to sweep up the dead birds at the foot of the high wall. Mary told the story of Mark when he had cheerfully hidden the future. Mark told the story of Fred facing beyond the skies when the light folded. Fred told the story of Mary patiently listening to him. Mary told the story of Fred, but he was not listening. Fred and Mark touched tongues and told the story of Mary passing between them.

Wombs by Jamie Lynn Heller
How many molecular functions were swiped up by dust rags from behind the cookie jar, thesis statements spun around mixing bowls with room temperature butter and vanilla, legal challenges that couldn’t escape Monday’s mopping even tucked under the bottom edge of the cabinet, peace-talks threaded and stitched into new curtains, full minds swept the front porches before 8am each day, soothed teething infants while daydreaming in binary The spring I graduated college she took my hand in one of hers

Kindness by John L. Swainston
Walking down the circular path to the vaulted room – Radiation treatment soon. Turning the corner, she looked up smiling at me. She just finished her treatment. Seven or eight, I think. Snuggled in her arm, she carried a Teddy Bear. “Does that help?” I asked. She smiled, “Yes.” The next day walking the path there he was, sitting on the hand rail – her Teddy Bear. “Oh no, look she forgot her bear.” “No, she didn’t.” I looked at my guide confused. “No, she left him for you.” My Dad always tol

The Sirens of the Buffalo River by Ruth Weinstein
The androgynous sirens of the Buffalo River— they are not female destroying angels— appear to me in the full moon light around alternate bends in the river. They take the form of loose-limbed, fluid-dancing otters dressed in miles and miles of light-spangled, flowing black silk. Dip your hands into their essence, the water, warm as a sensory deprivation tank. But no sensory deprivation here, only full sensory immersion in holy water. Lower your whole body into their embrace and allow them to wr

Anatomy and Physiology

Our Stories

Wombs

[Signal] Fire

A Wife Speaks To Her Husband During Visiting Hours at Douglas County Jail

Words Rewritten

My Old Man

Leo J. Ryan

Principal Life

What You Left Behind

Solstice Peach

Kindness

How a Mother Should Dress

Slipped Under Your Door

Rain

Maundy Thursday

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