Emily Chabra
Erasure
Every Wednesday night I climbed
the pine tree in the parking lot
so I couldn't hear them say
you can't be queer and holy
I straddled from beneath and clawed
my way up high
I perched
in the sharp, aching window
I could hear the sunset's trembling
and hold fragile the crows
whose indifference felt friendly
It was Christmas morning
when I saw they'd cut the branch
Bio
Emily Chabra lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her wife and four cats. Emily's poetry has appeared most recently in new words {press} and The Q&A Queerzine. She works at the library and cooks very spicy noodles. Rituals of grief give Emily hope for humanity.