Darren C. Demaree: Four Poems

Darren C. Demaree is the author of “As We Refer to Our Bodies” (8th House, 2013), “Temporary Champions” (Main Street Rag, 2014), “The Pony Governor” (2015, After the Pause Press) and “Not For Art Nor Prayer” (8th House, 2015). He is the Managing Editor of the Best of the Net Anthology. He is currently living in Columbus, Ohio with his wife and children.

Emily As A Mango Hitting the Ground

If this were an orchard
how lovely it would be
if Emily fell from a tree
as the mangos fall, roll
to the will of the root’s
gradient. In Ohio, though
we don’t grow any mango
& such a fall bruises deeply
what we had first hoped
would be light pat
from the dirt. Origin
of my fruit, I am sorry,
I did my best to imagine
a way for you to be unscathed
or cradled in good context.
I failed to simply catch you.
(originally appeared in Your Impossible Voice)

Emily As The Sun Is So Bright The Field Has No Context For The Cold

There is a distance from us
to the cut bank, but the warmth,
or absence of the warmth
never varies, never layers jealousy
between the land, the man,
the woman he loves who stares
at the sun without regard for her
eyesight, what that narrowing
black can mean. We are dressed
for a warmer world. We believed
that bright sun meant something.
Legs over the erosion of the field,
we have sat here all morning
hoping more land would develop
so we could lay down in the light,
but that is not what happens here.
No matter what the scene might
look like from Route 36, we are
not moving because we are waiting,
not because we are frozen, or afraid
we will fall into the shallow water
beneath us, we are waiting for eyes
that can decipher all of the things
the steam pouring out of our mouths
might mean. Good money down,
we have nothing to say about Ohio,
as we knew this might happen,
that the small strips of land
might one day mean something more
to us because of the distance
between each other, our warm bodies.
(originally appeared in Prick of the Spindle)

Adoration #30

for Anna, my neighbor
The first time you mentioned your breasts
to me it was to tell me they
were gone now, that there were other
parts missing as well, taken from
your body, from waking flesh
that had woken up poorly, sick.
When I tried consolation, you
made a joke. You looked stronger then.
Actual strength is astounding.
(originally appeared in Northwind)

Emily As Luminance Deflected

The first letter that magnificence wrote
was in deference
to the lord. The second letter
that magnificence wrote was about a tide
of angels overwhelming the shores,
confronting the sun. The third letter
was a confession
that magnificence believed only in the heat
of other magnificence
& the army of heavens, General
& Co., seemed to only carry individuals
on the sand, one at a time, driving
them mad with the thought that they
might not be alone. The fourth letter
magnificence wrote was more of a song,
that buried the burden of proof
inside of her glorious, malleable intention
to be weak beauty, but beauty all the same.
(originally appeared in Colorado Review)

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