Monday, July 13, 2015

It's 3 something

It's 3 something
and I am just thinking about you
and your arms

and teeth
and the way you play with your hair when you're talking
and the truth in your voice 
when you said it would never get old

and your smile because I'm laughing 
about the joke we both know 
hidden in our sighs
the something itching between our thighs

I'm thinking about the 3 states and freeways you'd have to cross to get to me
and how they are so small

I'm wanting your hands
and breath

I'm wanting me crushed beneath it all

I'm needing your chest against my ear

your space- 

I am barely awake 

I'm just thinking about you
and wondering if you're just a dream anyway

Sunday, July 28, 2013


Well the thing is I'm going on a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to Sao Paulo Brazil!

I'm leaving August 14th and it doesn't even seem real but it's REAL!
My sister will be blogging for me over at
You can expect great things.


Friday, March 8, 2013


When I was 13 I rode quietly in the back seat of our family car. My older brother was in town and he was taking us to Taco Bell. Just the kids. My sister, who must have been 16 sat in the front and the two of them talked about high school. The windows were down so the wind was loud. I think it was July. Sticky.
How many boys have you kissed?
My sister said nothing.
What a stupid question, I thought. None. I would've known. And besides, kissing is gross. Or it's for grown ups. Or people who don't go to church.
Come on. How many?
Another pause. And then fingers shooting up on two hands--
The wind pushed my hair into my face. 6?
With tongue?
What do you think?
Not bad!

In the back seat now my hair was strangling me. Or, no, I had put it in a ponytail.
And they kept talking but my hands were sweaty and I couldn't hear.
Maybe I was praying?
I got a taco.
And I shut my door when we got home.
And 3 months later I kissed a boy in his basement without tongue
and I got older
and quieter.
Because I heard 6
but I didn't hear the rest.

Wednesday, March 6, 2013


on a couch from the 80s
take me back in time.
not too fast floral print--
his steel beard shakes
his glasses forward.
my dress is small and whirring.
take me in the delorean
to white cold november to
before i met you, wool coat,
on a couch such as this


I remember a time freshman year when no one came to my choir concert.
I wandered through the crowd afterward chin up in my sparkly dress all the way out the door and back to my apartment alone
in the dark.

I wonder, 4 years before that, if the cheerleader in the children's ensemble for the tri-state area felt alone when she told us what the doctors had told her. Cancer. Leukemia. The soprano section sank around her like the Marys at Golgotha and the mee-meh-mahs hung still on the pianists hands and I wonder what she must have felt.

And 4 years before that there was Amanda. Who drank formula and brought 02 tanks to school. Too young to spell her name right every time. She smelled like hospitals and smiled like an angel and then one day she just didn't come in. It was in the middle of the fall. Did anyone attend the funeral?

I remember feeling like a sparkly island once
and often
but many girls do
through harder times.


While Our Mothers Worked

In the trailer park behind my house
Ashley got pregnant
Jenny slept with the bus driver
and Sarah cut her wrists

In the woods behind the trailer park behind my house
we found an old washer
in a train car
and played house

In the creek by the woods behind the trailer park
behind my house
the water froze
and we burried
dead bunnies in a shoebox
beneath the ice while our mothers worked

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Ekphrastic poem

Our latest assignment in poetry class was to write an ekphrastic poem--a poem on a work of art. We could choose from any painting, photo, sculpture, etc. So I chose a photo I took in high school when I was in photography class...mostly because I had easy access to it...also because I love the picture. Ekphrastic poems should be able to stand alone without the picture, but also avoid summary description.

Here's the poem I wrote:

Woman on the Edmonds-Kingston Ferry
by Emily Culp

There’s something on the water
she can’t see.
             Black and thirsty
     Tossing beneath thick fog

It’s a whisper
     the bleak future of the lovers seated behind her
They laugh
now              as one shows the other a secret

45 minutes
       Inside today because it is too
Her mother will be waiting in

Maybe her mother is on the             water
Out there         
  already gone. Her iv unhooked.

        She’ll have to take the 5:30 back
When traffic

Behind the couple
a mirror image with curly hair
overexposed          in the darkroom
          imaginary blonde-highlights
keeps her back turned
out of focus
low f-stop

the whale
           at the back of the boat--
Leaping almost out                                                                of frame.

Mother will be waiting
in             Kingston.
if she is not already            gone.
on the water.

(And here's a crappy picture of the photo I took with my cell phone)

This class is pretty over my head a lot of the time...but I love it.