Emmy Newman

who hides in the Gulf of Mexico under the water table like a cheat. With a sleight of hand, he blows bubbles into mother’s ovaries– creates incarnatic sac. He waits for the gyre to carry him farther away from his children. “Father,” they mew. He foams at the mouth because he cannot stop creating need. He must envy ghost crabs– how they blend in; how they bury. Being felt and never seen. When he goes back home his favorite place is at the bottom of a swimming pool. It’s where he practices anonymity and the art of refraction. He hides under the table, behind stoic ripple, ascends in iridescent, disappears.

A Cabrera's poetry, fiction and essays have appeared in The New Guard, Brain,Child Magazine, Colere, Acentos Review, The Berkeley Fiction Review, Best Travelers' Tales 2021 Anthology, Mer, Deronda, and other journals. Her short fiction has been nominated for a Pushcart Award and adapted for stage by the Bay Area Word for Word Theater Company. She writes, teaches, dances and ride bikes in San Francisco, but not always in that order.

Emmy Newman is a spoken word poet from Baytown, Texas. When she's not working three part-time jobs in the American Hell-scape, she reads smutty fairy romances and writes. Her poetry leans heavily on creating visceral images and controlling sound by combining spoken word and traditional styles. She hopes her poems make you laugh or cringe (at least a little bit).  She has been published in journals such as Sudden Denouement, Persona Magazine, Dead Fern Press, and The Eckleburg Project.