Disappearing Lady by Emari DiGiorgio
To run from the everyday collapse,
its chain-link and water torture tank.
A woman like a wisp of cloud, lunula
of nail. She halves herself again.
If a black hole is a dead star,
how does it die? For her next trick,
balanced on ice pick—a bag of flour
to cake. No yellow wallpaper here.
She’s a stitch of floss, drawing blood.
The unpaved road, dirt lot. The same
dream on hands and knees. A contortion
gone wrong: trying to hang herself
with her own hair. This woman can fit
so many things between her legs. Hurry.
We all die so slowly, then all at once.
EMARI DiGIORGIO’s first book, The Things a Body Might Become, is forthcoming from ELJ Editions. She’s received residencies from Vermont Studio Center, Sundress Academy of the Arts, and Rivendell Writers’ Colony. She teaches at Stockton University, is a Dodge Poet, and hosts World Above, a reading series in Atlantic City.