Poetry
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The Emergence
by Jared Schickling
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the emergence
If the day were to pass
tomorrow would come, bursting from your chest
it would be like the thousand nights in your skin
cool, to the touch. Whatever we bring through the stairwell
each morning, greeting similar heads
a growling in the chest and, though fruit filled the streets, coffee
brought hope. Looking, out the window
there was always another window, landscaped
polka dots, smaller faces, hints of appliances and
the brick wall where each brick was somehow
the same. The whole world in your wake
the whole world just sleepwalks. Gleaning.
The door was a hungry animal
a friend altogether the same. But a cat bearing fruit in its mouth
why she was a pillow, a tall glass of lemonade.
Like when her legs are bound and fish is dangled. A simplicity that was worth it.
Tragically, when she bolted out the door, she left only a human.
—jared schickling
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