Emily Hunt


No one’s around,
their respect for me has been receding
since my last vision where I was
on a ship and I could feel
the motion of the journey
but my hands were tied.
The frozen shards of rain
hit the sea so beautiful
the first slow hundred days.
I could see them through a little hole.
I tried to go to sleep
standing I imagined
going very far
the fourth or fifth place might be
a kind of climbing over
the feeling of the group.
They didn’t make the land
they just walked across it
rearranging, so I was there.
The train sped overhead.
It was pure
before I moved in my belongings.

Emily Hunt's poems have appeared in The Iowa Review, TYPO, The Volta, Conduit, Diagram, Sea Ranch, and elsewhere. In 2013, Brave Men Press published This Always Happens, a book of her drawings. Her chapbook New Clouds is available from Floating Wolf Quarterly, and her first collection is forthcoming from The Song Cave in 2015. Find her on Tumblr at

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