Poetry by Emily Patterson

      Nicholas Erwin CC




Self-Portrait as Woman as Forest

There were signs: the leaf 
fragments that fluttered 

from my hair to my morning 
coffee; the crescents 

of dirt beneath each nail; 
all the honey I was eating, 

as if my mouth had become 
a home for bees; all the words 

I did not need to say: the way 
I held quiet in my orbit. 

I began to drink only rainwater, 
to crave light, but not 

with the same desperation. 
I knew warmth would fade 

and return, that I didn’t need 
to shine all the time. 

I let my limbs rest. I changed, 
always. I was alive.

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Emily Patterson (she/her) is the author of three chapbooks, most recently haiku at 5:38 a.m. (Bottlecap Press, 2024). Her work has been nominated for Best Spiritual Literature and is published or forthcoming in SWWIM, North American Review, Rust & Moth, Wild Roof Journal, CALYX, and elsewhere. She lives with her family in Columbus, Ohio and works as a curriculum designer.