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Magnolia  tattoo—
by Emma Eisler

July 19, 2021 Contributed By: Emma Eisler

Art from Cleveland Art

died  May  2020.  Had  been  withering  already  from  my  ribs;  trampled  petals, leaves rubbed to mush. Your hand [a hand is not a metaphor, is not creation] tugging root from marrow,  apology  from  tongue.  Once,  I  got  very  high  in  a  room  I  don’t  like  to think  about,  and every object shook off its dust and began to dance. Or the room was laughing at me. Or I smothered my  ears  in  a  pillow  but  still  could  hear  it.  Your  hands  turned  the doorknob  and  the  doorknob obeyed, and desire was another word for hunger when I was unintentionally starving myself, when a friend mailed me a box of granola bars, a face mask, and note. Spring, in cinder blocks we planted begonias, red like inside a stomach, and I lost weight not because I wanted to look thinner, but for the  same  reason  I  stopped  sleeping,  your  arm hanging  over  me  or  often  not.  Flowers  know  the language of shyness, curling away when faced with rough touch, but no one gets a tattoo without wanting the needle as well. By summer next, I’ll be unrecognizable to you, ribs under fat and bloat; flowers we planted grave.


EMMA EISLER (she/her) is a junior English major at Cornell University with a concentration in poetry. She is Editor in Chief of the university magazine, Kitsch, as well as a columnist for the independent newspaper, The Cornell Sun. She is a recipient of the Cornell University Dorothy Sugarman Undergraduate Prize for poetry and has been published in magazines including The Smart Set, Allegory Ridge, Cathexis Northwest Press, Prometheus Dreaming, Storm of Blue, Blackheart Magazine, SWITCHBACK, and Beyond Words. She was also a semi-finalist in Digging Through the Fat’s 2021 chapbook contest. Emma plans to continue pursuing a career in writing after she graduates.

Filed Under: Featured Content, Poetry Posted On: July 19, 2021

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