Emily MacWilliams

the party-goers

green silvers away at itself—as elytral clicking
—as antennal preening—the minute—subcu
range of its clicking—habituates—the hum-
breath pends—saah-saah—behind glass
—dim bell hits
in tinny waves—each felt of
bristle fiber—irritability—squall chatter—
cracks another inch toward the frame
—another deadspare limb—bisected by
sash—wiltered stalks of bee balm—fence
gate beyond yard row—clearing let
shortly to perimeter—absent of any wildness—
just grass—the daily agitation of leaves—this cut
—as in that extension of trunk—that branching off—
another quartering—seamrent—inches toward the approach—

Emily MacWilliams is a graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, where she was a Truman Capote Fellow and a Teaching-Writing Fellow. She lives in Iowa City.