Emily Ellison

Emily Ellison is a first year MFA poet at Texas State University. She also works as an Instructional Assistant for their English faculty. She lives in San Marcos, Texas with two cats and an abundance of plants.

the tulips droop like my mother’s neck

in depression, dense
with mourning dew.
bees hum their condolences,

wearing my black
eyelashes as a funeral
garb. mother, your petals

look like pills
caught in the act of being
swallowed—I may prefer the gaping

hole to how you fill it.
mother, I have made myself
a fleeting wind

to show you how
you rattle. I am sorry
if cicadas

fly out of my mouth, and eat
your yellow belly. I am
sorry if you thought

I was your sun.