by Emily Sorensen


by Maggie Kennedy

Some clouds could
never understand:
floating puffs of moisture,
decorations with no entanglements,
or striated streaks stretched
too thin to take on
another trouble.

Others speak,
sum up a season:
rifts ablaze, valleys solemn,
having absorbed in their
slow migration

salty sweat
stagnant breath
morning dew
morning jitters
cry a river
laugh till it hurts
spit in the ocean
spit in the eye
spilled milk
spilled words

Standing beneath
is to be enfolded
known, accepted,
part of the unnerving blue.


About the photographer: Emily Sorensen is the Exhibitions Coordinator for environmental art at the Schuylkill Center for Environmental Education as well as a DFA Candidate at the Yale School of Drama, where she earned an MFA in Dramaturgy and Dramatic Criticism. While researching ecological art and performance, she likes to go outside and take pictures of pretty things, mostly trees.