Poetry by Emily Laubham

     John Brighenti CC




The Drama of a Caste Iron Skillet

You’ll never need another, says the Salesman.
I almost start to cry.

Truth is, choosing this one feels like losing something else.
As if someone spoiled the end of an unmade film.
With nothing left to plan for, there’s nothing left.

He asks for Cash or credit?
I flee like a madwoman, into the untold, unplanned,
away from the only caste iron skillet I will ever need.

The Salesman blinks. 
He’s not paid enough for this
and I hate to make things hard.
Still, I love the little dramas of my life.

The way one thing is also, always,
something else.

​



To Fall and Keep Falling

The beauty of it: to go wherever, whenever, however.
Permission be damned, perception be damned, all things
wrapped in bitterness be damned. To fall and keep falling, 
euphorically and far away from all. 
    
Knuckles capped in moss and trees clutch monkey bars,
whole ecosystems living on little girl hands.
I’ve heard stories where those fingers groan and creak, 
break open like oysters. 

As she falls, a pearl flies out of her mouth.
Good riddance and go on; let go
for good. 

God, let me be so lucky to fall
and keep falling.
I won’t even care if they notice
I’m gone.

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Emily is a writer in Pittsburgh, PA. Her short stories and poetry have appeared in publications including Contrary Magazine, Ping-Pong Literary Magazine, Menacing Hedge, Autumn Sky Poetry, Anti-heroin Chic, Scapegoat Review, and Hyacinth Review. She was recently published as a contributor in the poetry anthology “A Critique of the Gods” and featured as Poet of the Quarter in Rough Diamond Poetry.