Poems from Emma West
You needed me.
Three years ago, I remember I ran to your apartment past dead hour on a night before an exam to help you find pants. You...
Our poor, poor Queen.
Folks say she’ll swallow you in one big gulp,
But she cannot eat if she’s beaten to a pulp.
Her nipples are swollen...
To My Mother
Momma he beats me.
What do you want for dinner?
Leftovers sound fine.
To My Lover Abroad
Tell me you love me.
Remember the...
Bumps of ketamine.
Go to bed real late.
It’s not what it seems,
Hell is a soulmate.
Vodka made of tears,
Down a bunch of shots.
Your...