Contributors »

Poetry »

Untitled Emma Olson, San Francisco, CA
first, bundle. not longing to break free, huddled mass upon the
sidewalk. no longer able to separate himself from the blanket
that envelops him. grey body blending into grey sky, street and
I click clack by in high heels that barely skim the surface while
he breathes it with his being. cheek against the artificial stone
we created to hold us up. I see him but he only hears footsteps.

next, eyes emerge from layers of sandstone, crevices that
carry fire within: a dark igneous, once magma now cooled.
they peer into apprehensive air and skirt sideways. above,
furrows formed-desert slope upset only by tracks of some
prehistoric serpent.

but still no sign of life. only grey. a heap heavier than clouds,
right as rain, soft as sludge. I pass by again on the way home,
and he remains untouched by the sun's slant. his position
steady; nothing can shake him. no more earthquakes.
such freedom. in stability. not all who are lost wander.
some settle as silt to the bottom of the riverbed, and
let the current's gentle ebb and flow rock them to rest.

merrily merrily merrily merrily life is but a dream.

I see his eyes adjust to the light. in and out of focus-
try to find something stable. but cars blur by and
notice nothing. everything in motion. only he at rest:
a mound of rock, melded melting molded to us all.
at last a bundle.
Emma Olson grew up in the California sunshine and saltwater and is making her way as a rhetor. She helped co-found a publication focused on sustainability entitled Lettuce Turnip the Beets and has had her images and words featured in Berkeley Poetry Review and California Literary Arts Magazine. She feels poetry is the expression of a personal perception that allows for a deepening of consciousness. This piece is inspired by a man she passed on the way to and from work each day and his encounter with the world, which in turn made her more aware of hers.

Featuring America
Contact editors at featuringamerica@gmail.com.