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.
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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