my cat ate my cactus
as if he wanted his budded tongue
to similarly sprout and pickle
thorns from the papillae,
his succulent organ
through needles, his love
needles, the result of our anemic
communication is the thick-furred
speech taking violent expression
in each lick, my arm is a board
to carve desperations of enforced silence—
so is expressed love in its more accurate ache,
a removal of oneself to soothe the swelling of another.
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.
Issue 4 • Next: Tanner Lee – under my fingernails I write