Poetry by Emily Norton

                             ​Kev Wheeler CC



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NASA CONFIRMS EVIDENCE OF HIDDEN WATER ON SUNLIT SURFACE OF THE
MOON, POET MAKES IT ABOUT SEX

October 26, 2020

i’ve been making poems in the shape of your open mouth in the dark       swallowing whispered
breaths       promises          round and moaning/   promise not to laugh at me when i confess                                                 
i want your wet in my mouth       i’m not sorry                                                                    for dressing up
as your entire universe last night. not sorry for being a good fuck      or being happy. i think of
your hands   sun warm   hovering      melting  me                          small pools of want through my
fingers   a rocky surface.   the shape of joy                            joy           unsettling when everything is
like this                    joy discovered when everything is like this       it’s unsettling   to offer this water
to astronauts without asking permission                                  to drink my sky     unless you deserve it.

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all dyked up with nowhere to go

cut my hair & put on my best buttons. three dollars for black coffee on ice. eight dollars to get
there. the train isn’t coming. today. the train isn’t coming. the water here has veins. the coffee
shop smells like eggs on bagels & i’m all dyked up with nowhere to go. but here. the water here
has veins. each photo of snow looks the same but each moment. each moment a stab wound
on the rocks each moment, split open, and draining. this month is spilling confession spewing
contemplation. am i a girl or just something like it. will they let me through the door with my
head shaved. can i anarchize myself. finally. can i leave my blood on the steps of some elite
institution. this month is fracturing all my best excuses. atrophied. every bus i miss every hard-
earned dollar. atrophied. this month, this impending december, menacing. can i ever erase. my
face is a holy one. my face is pure i’ve been practicing. can I give it up. yet. can i. this time. leave
​the brink. get all dyked up. and leave.

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Emily Norton is a 22-year-old poet and editor residing in Toronto. Her work centres themes of reclamation and honesty within lesbian identity and whaver hopeless romanticism comes up. She currently works as a freelance writer and editor. When she's not writing, she's probably watching Bob's Burgers or playing with her cat. You can read more of her work at patreon.com/emnortonwrites.

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