Poems by Darren C. Demaree

Emily as an Apocalypse Story

for Donna Vorreyer

Being an acrobat
doesn’t disappear the floor

the netting we had removed 
when we declared 

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.