Emilie Lindemann


Panty #66 The panty flung between the bed and the wall like a magazine, so much more like a wasp in the windowsill. I let them stay there, clinging for that last drip. I let their little legs tingle against the living room window pane until slowly, slowly the legs stop quivering. Until brittle bodies, cotton stiff and dry. Panty #40 What shocked her most about pregnancy underthings wasn’t the way nursing bras flung open to expose huge unsightly nipples. It was the sheer enormity of a maternity panty when she brought it to the checkout, it was how the seat region (when unfurled) became an island the exact size and shape of Greenland. Panty #2-1-82 Suddenly seeing the matching turquoise of bra and panty he says, “Oh, you must be going swimming.” His eyes open up like an owl’s. Wave of Lake Michigan rushes over his barn and cow motif quilt. Small silvery fish and seagull beaks over the expanse of wood-paneling and ceramic squirrels inherited from a grandmother. It washes across the hallway where his mother coughs and rattles a bottle of vitamins in her rocker.

Emilie Lindemann feels happiest in the grocery store, especially in the produce department. Her chapbook, Dear Minimum Wage Employee: You Are Priceless, was recently published by Dancing Girl Press. She lives in Newton, WI and teaches creative writing at Silver Lake College.