A Story About Kites by Emari DiGiorgio


So many times we thought we understood something
and found out we were wrong. Some invisible thread
spooling from my center of gravity back to earth.

Painted with half a face on each side. These children
had never flown kites. Perhaps science has defined life
too small: hand that guides us to the next open door.

Breath my neighbor spent stepping outside, filtered
by sea grass, reused by me and my baby walking past.
Something does connect up. Should I recognize

my jade earrings or paisley scarf on the woman
who recharges my Nica phone, I’ll call them what
they are: gifts. It’s the surprises that we learn from.


Emari DiGiorgio makes a mean arugula quesadilla and has split-boarded the Tasman Glacier. She’s Associate Professor of Writing at Stockton University and a Poet-in-the-School through the Dodge Foundation and the NJ State Council on the Arts. In 2014-2015, her poetry manuscript, The Things a Body Might Become, was a finalist for the Crab Orchard Series in Poetry First Book Award and Open Competition, the St. Lawrence Book Award and the 42 Miles Press Poetry Award. Recent poems have appeared in Arsenic Lobster, the Blueshift Journal, the Prague Revue and Smartish Pace. Her work was featured on the Dodge Poetry Foundation’s Poetry Friday Blog.