Clara Howell
Emerging
In the shadows of the living
Dad always dressed for his funeral.
Black shadow dragging. Waiting
for the cloak to drop. The snow to run dry.
In winter, I too feel a piece
of me has died. I crawl into his skin.
Wear his hands like gloves. Zip him up
like a suit. And stillness. Stillness.
Let's take a walk out of you
and dance with the Devil tonight.
How fleeting, this trick of light
sweeping into a red-brown shadow.
Bio
Clara Howell is a poet born and raised in the Pacific Northwest. Clara finds poetry as an opportunity to connect the ordinary with the extraordinary by putting her most honest and raw experiences on the page. Clara's work has been previously published in Anti-Heroin Chic, Cathexis Northwest Press, Route 7 Review and The Pacific Review.