Emma Wulfe

@emmawulfe.bsky.social

poetry & tiny stories ✍️ snail whisperer 🐌🌿 few spoons 🥄 (chronic illness edition) UK

Cellar floods. Floods with mead. Her veins do. Her veins flood mead. Lambent. As a warm-stoned room. Castled in it. Castling. Layering. She's a bearskin. Castled a bearskin rug. Held. Midroar held in the roar. Five seconds five hundred years. Five seconds five hundred. Liquid. #vss365 #lambent

#Ghost is the shape of wanting after a body. You can touch yourself to feel the outline, the shape desire carves. You are the empty space another's need has made. If you open, the wanting wants in, flooding you with shapelessness. A ghost has no shape but has yours, traced. #vss365

#Pain insists on skin insisting nerve. And sovereignty to be known self where you begin. I cats cradle nerves into prayer into lexicon. In truth, you can be a disciple of anything. Pain. Here. Now. A kind of love lettering. Unfurl your hands. Pleasuretwin, let me give you this. #vss365

She soothes him by blow-drying his balls on the cool setting after a hot shower. She passes him a box of shiny red alarm clocks to throw at the neighbours. One by one. They explode like apples. He reminds her of bottle rockets. She accompanies him proudly, on a slide whistle. #vss365 #soothe

#vss365 He awoke standing with an unfamiliar kid in his arms. It began to squirm, and his body took over, #soothing the child, speaking in a familiar voice. He had been sleepwalking for so long, he was now just a passenger in his own body. He wondered what was keeping him tethered.

He soothes her like the rumble of a plane bulkhead, passengerless. Like snow drifting on the night of a snow moon. She doesn't know what else she could tell you about it. But if you look down there are sleepy, glowing farmhouses. #vss365 #soothe

the thrum of the train its rhythmic pulse rippling the sea between us rolling low lying clouds and velvet sky a sensual backdrop and you wind-kissed shadows flowering upon your skin intoxicated swaying in the sweet night in the thrall of this endless soft and dark #vss365

#Obfuscate oblique in the line of descent outspoken next line keep to guide point motion junctions supplies conic section= locus constituted givencondition methods ends @opposed to Flowing only incoming object denoting those on whom weight limit difficulty child in the womb contention mistoo #vss365

BildBildBildappleskin peels

He wants clarity like conquest like clean striped socks. She brings him obsfuscations. Yeasted doughs, peperomias in macramé, meringues of knotted cat hair. She lays them at his feet like microwaved mice. Well no one told her you shouldn't! Poor things. #vss365 #obsfuscate

#vss365 on borrowed time we held the #waning fire of summer in our hands painted daisies and beads of honeysuckle falling like diamonds your mood darkening with the turn of the leaves the sweet sorrow of an angel fingering the notes of the chill air snow drops hidden in the bone white of winter

Don't mistake waning for weakness. She's not disappearing. She's concentrating. Distilling herself to pure appetite. The Irreducible. Fangs in the heart of want. Incisors that remain when all that is soft burns away. Faultless, inside. Fatted. Pink lambneck of a threshing world. #vss365 #wane

#FoxProse paper planes aflame plummeting wings shorn of feathers a flickering light not for any reason just emotions flaring in that nascent dark a magnet that has no sense of true north why surrender to timid lines of electricity i need to bite into live wire and feel again

The #Ruse is a jewel of nothingtaste. A skin prick of foxglove sap, unable to be swallowed, refusing to be buried—believe her, she has tried. In slant light it is angels' hum and opal. She warns them not to listen. They tell her there is no Ruse. She sees them. Itching. #vss365