SWWIM sustains and celebrates women poets by connecting creatives across generations and by curating a living archive of contemporary poetry, while solidifying Miami as a nexus for the literary arts.

Choke

You make me cry oranges,
my throat envelop stones.  
Your honed-in focus rattles me
to bones. You could spend one whole poem
looking for a grain of sand in an ocean cove. 

I dream of quiet boys poking around in a buried trove.
They listen like doves
to the sound of fruit growing
in my orchards and my groves.

You were roving, clamoring in droves.
I stove off cravings by piercing them with cloves
and left them boiling on the stove in copper.
Into the soup of us, I dropped a mote of x, a jot of o
a note of hex, a spot of no,
and blended it real slow.

To complete this stock I must roast
your host of bones. 
Let it be known, the way we grow
together is the place where we don’t know
who’s choking on whose oranges
or whose stones. 


Emily Shearer is an ex-pat poet and yoga/French/writing teacher and creative consultant. Her poems have been nominated for Pushcarts and “Best of”’s, and published in Kestrel, Silk Road Review, Please See Me, jellybucket, Fiolet & Wing, emry’s journal online, psaltery & lyre, West Texas Literary Review, Clockhouse, and Ruminate, among others. She is the Poetry Editor for Wide Open Writing. You can find her on the web at www.bohemilywrites.net.

Super 8

blood garden: burial plot