Emily Hockaday

Morning Thoughts on Reincarnation
by Emily Hockaday

Even now, looking at the brick courtyard
lit by the late morning sun, I summon
feelings of grief. It is tiring, to always carry
your family’s mortality. I am losing half
of them.

As children we grew caterpillars into smooth
green chrysalises. They shimmered
like jewelry. Once metamorphosed, the new creatures
lit on the small rose bush my mother
diligently cut back winter after
winter. During the warm months
we put banana peels beneath
the glossy leaves. We didn’t know, then,
that the caterpillar was melting
into cellular soup. The butterfly
was a stranger.


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 23, Issue 2.

Emily HockadayEmily Hockaday is the author of five chapbooks, including the forthcoming Beach Vocabulary from Red Bird Chaps. Her poems have appeared in numerous journals, and, along with Jackie Sherbow, she coedited the anthology Terror at the Crossroads. She can be found on the web at www.emilyhockaday.com and @E_Hockaday.

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