Felt

By Johanna Emeney

Couples in last-chance therapy, best friends unfriending, racist trolls trawling the comments section for game — this collection is concerned with the things that make us feel. This felt realm is very much in nature, too. From the regal calm of goats cudding in the sun to the slow unwinding of the last bee on earth, Johanna Emeney seems to say that there is a message in the air — for those who listen with all of the senses. This outstanding suite of 31 loosely connected poems is by turns powerful, warm, loving, and shocking.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Massey University Press
• Release date: Apr 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9780995122901

Book preview

Author

Suspicion

The seagull walks more quickly

in front of the little boy

whose hands are a gun.

She will not fly or stop

to look behind;

she will just keep a hop

ahead of his shadow

until he loses interest.

Because he will lose interest.

He will lose.

He will.

Couples Therapy

Your homework is to stand

holding each other

for five minutes.

No talk, no movement,

no intimate touch—

just a five-minute hug.

We’ve a month between sessions

so there’s no excuse

for not doing it.

The task is five minutes

body to body, breathing

in—and—out.

You might like to think

about the feelings

you experience

or you may prefer

to be in the moment—

out of your conscious mind.

If you feel the need

you can close

your eyes.

I Am Losing You Again

I am losing you again.

I cannot station

a fresh-faced guard

one metre from your bed

every morning and night

to guarantee your safety.

I cannot enforce

the confiscation

of your belt, or hang

the curtains on strong magnets,

take control of your hair ties,

your phone charger.

I cannot check on you

by hourly text

or even call three times a day

without seeming obvious

or overbearing.

But if I don’t hear back,

if you don’t pick up

all my mind reads

is your last sorry I love you

in the kids’ orange pencil,

its whys running out

of reason and clarity

at the point of

Please Turn Over.

Hospital Guard

I liked the young guard—his leanness, his untouched acne,

his manner, measured as that of a middle-aged man.

He sat all night and half the morning watching you

indirectly, with neither judgement nor intrusion.

It was simply his duty to defend you against all harms.

He reminded me of the guards in large European galleries,

who know intimately the treasures in their charge,

and who observe with discernment the visitors,

distinguishing instinctively those who will stand, moved

at a distance, from those who will trespass beyond

the red cord to approach Hero at the base of