Tuesday, 3 August 2021


His daughters

by Emalisa Rose

Gathering shells, she’d pick
out the ones with intricate markings.

I liked the large ones to paint
and glob glitter on.

Sis and I lived by a beach.

Mom and Pop took us there
often; it was freedom 
and filigree.

Pop was laid off a lot; deemed
to be “trouble,” at a time
without union protection.

Years on, we found that his
“oddness” was really bipolar,
thankfully helped by his meds.

This conch shell still echoes. It’s
smooth with gold edges, colored
by time, as I revisit the sea, and

I wish I could talk to my sister now.

* * * * *

When not writing poetry, Emalisa Rose enjoys crafting and birding. She volunteers in animal rescue, helping to tend to a cat colony in her neighborhood. Living by the beach, provides much of the inspiration for her art. Her work has appeared in Writing in a Woman's Voice, Spillwords, and other fine places. Her latest collection is On the whims of the crosscurrents, published by Red Wolf Editions.