Emily Robidoux is a 23 year old aspiring poet, living in Rhode Island, and is proud to make her second appearance in Glass. Emily is most inspired by the way in which writing can create a sense of wholeness and understanding for the chaotic, the illogical, or the nameless occurrences of everyday. In her work, Emily attempts to explore grief, stretch the limits of truth, and unravel the fantastical threads at the edge of the mundane.

Previously in Glass: A Journal of Poetry: A Lifecycle for the Aquatic


Emily Robidoux

Thaw

The cardinal, on fire in the cottonwood, supervises the pick-ax resurrection of the boy out behind the house, without wincing at the way he rises from an undone mouth. The backyard, his empire, is overlush with the rot of him. The hosta plants dripping with sun-melt, bleed a silver river to the back door. Inside the house, I don't want my parents to be honest about money, or the way love congeals like blood pudding in an un-warm chest. They said a baby comes from the ground. It breathes first in the fist of the sun & second at the breast of a woman. Then someday it's slaughtered & skinned & returned.




Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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