|| Poetry by Ema Ourston ||


He kept a watch on a silver chain in
his pocket, and pulled it out during stops in
traffic, lulls in coversation.
Because the sand was slipping through the hour
glass, he knew it; he watched strangers
browse shopping centers, place change in the parking
meters, spill coffee on a crisp white shirt.


Ema Ourston is tall, seventeen, and attends boarding school in San Marcos, Texas. She enjoys old films, photography, and literary journals. She's applying to New York University in the fall, where she hopes to get lost in a sea of people.