to give us this morning of shadow-cast bodies
lumped under thick, stiff quilts, wooden blinds
chopping winter-white sunlight up into more manageable blocks

my beautiful wonder sprawled on her stomach
we rinse out sticky wine glasses to later refill
every flat surface covered with clay, candles and their coated holders,
pencils and canvas edges, dead flowers

give us this morning against the wind that fights through single-pane windows,
hands grasping at bed edges, at shifting pillows, at bodies
we fear losing more than loss

Emily Blair is the product of blue-collar Appalachia and an abiding fascination with bodies in space. Her work can be found in The Lavender Review, The Fem Literary Magazine, Spry Literary Journal, and other places. A native of Fort Chiswell, Virginia, she is currently pursuing an MA in English at the University of Louisville.