the snail and the vulture, the dotted yellow line,
the shotgun shell, the possum bone, the honeysuckle wine,
the nettle broth and tincture, the tadpole and the moon,
the swallowtail butterflies, the hope inside of june,
the rain upon the window, the carolina wren,
the stolen bra and undy drawer, the dusty goat feed bin,
the evening star called venus, the doting luna moth,
the heat behind the lighted moon, the clothesline and the cloth,
the kerosine, the clover, the lye for making soap,
the cow tongue sandwich recipe, the grass inside a rope,
the araucana chickens, the fire burning flags,
of dixie loving neighbors, their politic in rags,
a whittling and a whetstone, while as long as i sing,
will use all day to hone and find respite along the edges of all things.
Emma Loomis-Amrhein is a trans writer and naturalist who is particularly enamored of birds and moths. Her work tends towards poetry but occasionally appears as essays here and there. She primarily writes about the margins and marginalia, whether spaces or the beings and other things which inhabit them. Her debut collection of poetry, evening primroses, (April 2021) is available from Recenter Press. Her poetry has been nominated for Best of the Net and Pushcart prizes, and resides in over a dozen publications. She lives in rural, southern Ohio.