Five Poems by Emma Paxton

 

Limerance

Lost in limerance

I’m lost in your mind

Lost in you and lamenting

Languishing, lost in eyes

Lush I am too, a victim to lust

I longed in short ways,

It was supposed to last

There’s no found

Limerence is lonely

Drenched in past

 

Othello’s Cousin

In split screen, I see how it's a burning blur.

Get it out of my cerebral cortex

and onto a feverish vortex.

She gets the sacred spots

I never held.

It’s overtaking the reins,

tangibly shaking my veins.

It’s supposed to be me

who soothes the flesh,

who twirls the curls,

who settles into warm skin.

It’s akin to torture, but I swear,

then it feels fine

apathy followed by an apogee of emotion.

But I’ve got bigger fish to fry,

and it’s better than seeing your tears lie.

Just let us lay down, please, universe.

Wring out her scent.

My cracking knuckles make contact

with the door and make sure

Grade F packs her fiery locks.

I’m the sole soul with the key.

 

Hippocampus Trinkets

It doesn’t matter

how many times my

heart shatters.

I’ll just make a collage,

I’ll collect hippocampal trinkets

and forage for another apex.

Love is a lifeline.

I’ve never felt a feeling

so exquisite

so why heed the stop sign now?

 

Memory Tour

 

Touring my memories to find it again

Touring my memories to find it again

The moment is suffered and weathered

Let me take a candied trip to my past

To the swirling smiles and forest of fun 

The solace is in sharp memory

With every rewind and review

It fades, you need a new

Dopamine drops, serotonin plops 

So it’s time to tour my memories again

I’m mining for the silver lining

And a sliver of life, my what’s that like

When I could feast and fly

Now comes the predictable cry

Before the time

My joys were shipped off to a time machine

To never ever ever land

Now the daze are a bitter bland

Don’t fret it’s not all so bad

but when it’s right there’s nothing to write 

So sink me in memory 

I can seep into the pleasured past time

When life is but a memory

I need more to press play

If I can just wait till someday

 

Roadkill

“Emma, I used to lay down in the middle of the road, pitch black, and wait.”

While I used to lay down in the sand, basking in yellow serotonin rays,

he sang a somber song

with a chipper doodle-doo,

while I sang the sad songs, sadly.

 

I’m on the road again,

straddling the shoulder.

Cars blur past at triple speed.

I’m panting; the paint chips off.

I smell burnt rubber,

a decaying banana peel,

a dead squirrel,

and the car dealership.

And now, his deepest, darkest feeling

is tired.

Emma Paxton is a poet who often draws from themes of relationships and nature. Her poetry utilizes evocative overtones, fervent imagery, and  a penchant for a play on words. She is also a standup comedian and has a self-published book of poems accompanied by original photographs, you can find on Amazon entitled Poe Ems. She resides in upstate NY.