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Motion Carried
A woman stands before the ensemble. She has any height, weight, or frame you desire. Her hair is a color you hate or a color you love. Maybe she wears makeup; maybe she doesn’t. Perhaps because she knows we’ll be moving a lot, she has her hair pulled away from her face. Because she anticipates…
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Illumination
Fifteen minutes before class, I prepare to leave my office. I place a stack of 25 graded student essays into my large bag, wrap my soft red scarf around my neck, hang my small brown purse from my right shoulder, and slide my sunglasses over my regular glasses. I pick up my keys and unfold…
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Three Little Things
If you are a student in my freshman composition class, you will be asked to analyze the title of any given reading on the syllabus. I tell my students, “Titles mean a lot; writers choose them deliberately.” I don’t say this because I’ve read extensive theory validating this claim. I say it because I, as…
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Cool Traveler
Crisp mornings change the shape of my traveling thoughts. As I head to my early class, I leave my office and take a left, then another, before pushing through the reluctant glass door of my building. I transfer my cane to my left hand and open the door with my right, holding the door ajar…
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Transition Lenses
Several personal items sit atop my nondescript office desk: a red aluminum water bottle, a set of keys, my folded cane, a red cellphone, a silver and gray lamp, a box of tissues (nearly empty), a carafe of peanut butter M&Ms (almost empty), and my sunglasses. Of all these items, the sunglasses are easiest to…
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Deliberate Communication
Subtitle: A letter for Henry I have decided to break out the Perkins braillewriter. Henry and I are going to exchange braille letters with the hope of improving my braille skills. As the novice, I must write the first of these missives. Henry says this will force me to remember my skills, but I suspect…
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Enlightened Interactions
On this especially foggy morning, Dad drops me off at the sidewalk by the library. I walk forward, finding that I move more easily through fog than glare, and I trace the path that slides past the library. Narrow strips of brick interrupt the smooth surface of the sidewalk, and my cane catches awkwardly in…
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Green Tea, Green Time
I am sitting in a heavy, hard-backed chair, at a small bistro table, a few feet away from the stairwell. Tucked into the corner of the elevated sidewalk that hugs my department building, the table provides an ideal place for listening to the sounds of the courtyard below, the passing students, and the occasional birds.…
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Dear Christina
Dear Christina, I don’t know quite how to begin, so I just will. It’s really hard not having you here. I miss you so much. On most days, I can smile, remembering all the fun we’ve had, but today, I just can’t make it work. I’m crying as I type this, blowing my nose on…
About Me
Emily K. Michael is a blind poet, musician, and writing instructor. She serves as the poetry editor for Wordgathering at Syracuse University. She is also a poetry mentor in AWP’s Writer to Writer program. Her work focuses on music, embodiment, teaching, and ecology. Emily is passionate about birds, medieval history, singing, and guide dogs.
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