And the soft ice had been returned
By a low sun. I’d learned
Nothing: the same street turned early
To dark; the man bitter
From glasses of pearly Champagne I’d egged
Him to buy. The lamps begged
Off their halos, cold, pegged me for
That inevitable worn-
Out shame. Tell me, what more could I
Have asked of love but my
Intimacy with blame?
Emily Dorff received her MFA in Creative Writing & Writing for the Performing Arts from the University of California, Riverside. She has presented at the “Writing Our Future” program at the Los Angeles Public Library Downtown and is currently a board member for the Saskatoon Writers’ Collective. Her work has most recently appeared in the literary journal FreeFall.