First Person by Emily Carlson I didn’t see the crash from where she stood while our children rode bikes in the street but I could have as I am also a bird alighting and the crown of the little dogwood beside us. When she tells me, “We planned to move home to Israel, then the pandemic hit,” I begin like a fool for connection, “I was in Beirut when Israel invaded—” as if that’s a friendly handshake. But I meant it like, small world. She cuts in, “I wouldn’t call that an invasion. That was a war. They captured our soldiers.” Or, I meant to make her see it my way. Supersonic fighter aircraft vs. soldiers in lawn chairs, their guns on the ground. A fiery blast. A smudge of ash. To fight meant we’d be wiped from the face of the earth. Like wiping a tear from a face, that easy. I could let go of my story, remember wisdom is the omniscient mind. But— says the I, what we call a thing isn’t just semantics. I could walk away. Or, I could look at her like a sister, ask of her family back home from ten feet, six feet— while our children play in the street. Copyright 2023 by Emily Carlson
Emily Carlson is a teacher and the director of Art in the Garden, an LGBTQ+ led, joy-centered arts and ecology program that addresses the impacts of childhood adversity and trauma. Their poetry chapbooks include Why Misread a Cloud, selected by Kimiko Hahn as the winner of Tupelo Press’ 2022 Sunken Garden Chapbook Award and I Have a Teacher, selected by Mary Ruefle as the winner of 2016 Center for Book Arts Chapbook Competition. In 2006, Emily received a travel scholarship from the Nationality Rooms at the University of Pittsburgh which took her to Lebanon. Why Misread a Cloud explores connections between military and police strategy, specifically looking at Lebanon during July War of 2006 and police violence in Pittsburgh in 2012. Emily, her partner the poet Sten Carlson, and their three children live in Pittsburgh in an intentional community centered around a garden.
