Two Poems by Eleanor Crews
i hope this email finds you well
i hope it follows you, circling like a bird of prey. i hope it sticks to your shoe like dog shit. i’m not doing well, and i think you should know. i hope this email slithers over the tile on your kitchen floor and sinks its teeth into your ankle. i hope it snaps your achilles’ tendon and sends it ribboning up your leg like tailor’s tape. you heard me. you know how i feel. i hope you have to hit this email over the head with a dictionary before it dies, twitching under your fridge. take its broken body out back. if you need me, i’m always in the last place you looked.
swan quarter (meditation)
the dead trees stick their hands into a hot blue sky, june melts into a sticky pool of something on the side of the road. i don’t know what it is. what anything is. abandoned gas stations chock-full of graffiti. i don’t know how to do this anymore. green-headed flies follow the car desperately, like biting jewels in the heaviest air. telephone pole, tobacco field, trailer park, tar pit. pothole pizza hut paradise. nothing fits right. everything stuck like a swollen tongue.
Eleanor Crews is a writer and full time college student living in Asheville, North Carolina. She is currently working towards a bachelor’s degree in Creative Writing. Her work has been published previously in New Note Poetry and Scapegoat Review, and she has also been a featured poet on Poetry Super Highway.
