Where Did She Go To Get Lost

It was normal to find her
gone, in the middle of the night
a note left on the kitchen counter, in case

we woke & worried. She was often sleepless,
tossing and turning into grocery stores
when no one else was there, save the few

grave shift workers restocking the shelves.
She used to say it was the only time & place
she could find some fabric of peace

without kids who come
to play with their loud stances
& you-can’t-mess-with-me attitudes.

I imagine her roaming the empty
aisles with her thoughts roaming
somewhere else far away. At the 1am
supermarket, under fluorescent lights

in that warehouse engulfing, she could hear
her own mind again. Who is responsible
for the suffering of your mother? Where
did she go to get lost when she was comforted

solely by the memory of her unearthed
lover. Does she miss me now the way she
missed him then? The distance of death
between us grows wider every day.

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Bio

A Brooklyn based poet and performer originally from Idaho, Emi is an active associate of the Poetry Society of New York, a regular cast member of The Poetry Brothel, an editor of Milk Press Books, and a collaborator with the Pandemic Poems Project. Her work often explores grief and the legacy of memory. Poems featured in What Rough Beast, Oxford Public Philosophy, Oroboro, Passengers Journal, For Women Who Roar, The Nervous Breakdown, Noctua Review, and In Parentheses. Emi writes commissioned poetry and donates proceeds to charities and social justice organizations.