Emily S. Downing
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Emily is a 21-year-old poet and two time slam champ. Originally
from Oneonta, NY, she made a quick mark on the Canadian performance
scene with excellent material, and an urgent, striking style.
When last heard from she was living in Denmark.
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Heroin & Belittling Conversation how are you? fine.how are you fine how are you fine and you fine hi how are youfine how are you fine how are you fine how fine are fine you fine you fine you fine hey chick, I said, you fine? the world is calling you and you look up slowly like it’s still made up of old men talking over a card table something in com pre hens i ble or like you are still a child too young to understand you’re not you fine? they ask and you say yeah it’s cool I mean I don’t mind holes holes in you in the whole of you too small for hands to reach in and fill I know I’ve tried and I watch you trying to fill a joke a joint a smoke another and another and another drag drag your feet through snow city streets scraping barely past the back door slam of a broken down Cadillac where you live press your fingers tighter around the glass now tighter downing drowning downing drowning saying, pour me another pour me another pour me another like you can hold your own and it ain’t heavy like it ain’t even heavy at all hi, how are you girl? how high are you girl? I passed a junkie the other day on the street maybe nineteen years old thin shaking it was the first time this year it was snowing and I didn’t have anything not even any change or a reason to slow down my pace even though I was thinking about you then and how at sixteen you were so scared shaking so so you let someone else hold the needle there is a first time there is a first time there are holes in you though your long shirt sleeves won’t cover a joke a joint a smoke another and another and another and they are hard to find these holes but I have seen them collecting rain and filled over and over with never enough a prick a prick a prick drawing a single drop of red you it is snowing and I winder what streets house you now how deep the wool keeps warm your soft flesh I knew your name once and it is not enough there are holes in me from where I tried to fill you how are you fine how are you fine but there are holes in me from where I tried to fill you and I know sweetie I know that words don’t belong there now even the sound of your voice beautiful sweet girl voice when you turn to ask the man sweet breathy girl voice like you know how to beg or like you have never begged before sounding almost shy you turn and ask the man and say hey, I know it’s only Tuesday and all but do you think just this once you could pay me under the table I need to get something fixed |
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