In the practice of withholding rest  
I have become expert. 
The thickness of days

provide resistance to my touch
and curdle my mind into these dreamlands. 
I have been trying to tip my own expectations
in my sleep but I am sure of nothing 
but the pain of floating

in the Dead Sea, the white-hot water
drilling in with so much salt 
I become completely
unable to remember the slish and moil 
of standing on dry ground.

I have developed a taste for repenting I can’t shake.
I keep touching my finger to the electric coil
first by accident, then
trying to pay up enough
to bring the real world back.

---

About the Author

Emmy Newman’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in Poetry Northwest, CALYX: A Journal, New Ohio Review, Yemassee, and elsewhere. She has been nominated for Best New Poets, Best of the Net, several Pushcart Prizes, and currently serves as the Marketing & Events Manager for Split/Lip Press. Find her on Instagram @she_wins_an_emmy.