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Poems by Darren C. Demaree

Emily as an Apocalypse Story

    for Donna Vorreyer

Being an acrobat
doesn’t disappear the floor
beneath

the netting we had removed 
when we declared 
ourselves 

part of a show.
I throw hay onto the ground
before each display,

not to save 
either one of us,
but to allow our broken bodies

a field’s frame when we fall
& do not fall 
near each other.



Emily as a Shortbread Cookie

I know the sugar
is limited.  There is only
one of her, but the crumbs

the numbers left
when they put her down
in front of me

I consume so quickly.
One day, through these
poems, I will be found

with her in my mouth
& no answer about what
propelled me 

to consume her.
The truth is I’ve been
threading her

into my teeth for years.