Emily Collns

Emily Collns Poems

The Best Poem Of Emily Collns

Fabled Retirement

The first born bought her a house along the river
Where her old footprints now trace mud from the banks

'It's no island of Shalott' she said,
'But I suppose it will do'

Lying in the grass, she likes to watch the water ripple
Like the pleated skirts she wore in her yearbook photos

Or the bellows of an accordion played by her Italian man
The August she took that secret trip

She likes to watch the tree branch in the water, how
It arches like a claw, green turtles mating on top of its wrist

While kayakers soar past the giants
With glowing paddles brown and gold like leaves

Her favorite part of the day is lying in her bed
Praising Zeus she never married

And then the nursemaid stirs in her purple slippers to make
the scrambled nightmare with runny eyes over easy flames

She misses blowing into glass bottles with Maureen, the stories they
Shared when pressing their ears against the belly of a sea shell

Maureen with the wrinkles on her forehead
Like ghostly veins across butterfly wings

All those stories Maureen told her
about her childhood and about

Her husband with the scalpel
Her husband with the hobbies

The time he gave her a good talking to
Like Bluebeard with his sword in hand

While she kept the key in her pocket
Her fingers stained from the past

The time he turned her hair into strands of candlewick
The time he made belt studs of her freckles

The time he sentenced her to twelve years of bleeding
Without the fringe of his garment to touch

She loved the way Maureen played in the water
How she looked down and saw her reflection as a lady

Weaving her story from the loom
About a life with no grace left to lend

Where castles once ruled the land and
Mirrored children never looked so small

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