The Breath of Poetry: A Conversation with Emily Decker

Poetry is an elastic and enigmatic form that can herald epic histories and also whisper the simple narratives of life. Beauty and inspiration can be found in poetry, whatever the subject, whatever the form. Poets like Emily Decker, whose debut poetry chapbook Homing: Poems is forthcoming from Yellow Arrow Publishing, remind us to stop and breathe in our environment, to appreciate each moment for all it contains.

Decker is a poet who currently resides in Baltimore, Maryland. Homing: Poems reflects relational connections and seasons of community in our lives and breathes new life into themes surrounding identity and belonging. The collection embraces the energy of the quotidian and yet encourages readers to look beyond the surface of our surroundings. We are excited to introduce Decker along with the exquisite cover of Homing: Poems (discussed further below). Reserve your copy at yellowarrowpublishing.com/store/homing-poems-paperback and make sure to leave some love for Decker here or on social media.

Melissa Nunez, Yellow Arrow interviewer, and Decker engaged in conversation through email where they discussed the creative impact of nature and our (human) habitats, and the magic encompassed in everyday existence.


May you outlive yourself by lifetimes,
storing up your sporadic fill of city tap
and regenerating from your hacked off stems,
so the next generations—or maybe just a future me—
can see what it means to grow out of our ends.

“Ode to Granddaddy Aloe”

Who are some of your favorite women-identified writers?

Oh, where to begin? Ada Limón, Linda Pastan, Marie Howe, and Mary Oliver have been my go-to poetry companions the past few years. In the fiction realm, I’ve been catching up on Nicole Krauss and Zadie Smith novels. Bernadine Evaristo’s Girl, Woman, Other was one of my favorite reads within the past several years. Ann Patchett’s novels have also been regulars in the nightstand pile.

What first drew you to poetry?

Throughout school, I always enjoyed reading and analyzing poetry. During undergrad, I gravitated toward the Victorians and the Beat poets of the ‘50s—something about the lyricism and angst of each of those eras really captivated me.

But I didn’t start writing poetry until grad school when—on a whim—my friend and I signed up for a workshop with David Bottoms, Georgia’s poet laureate at the time. He emphasized the role of narrative in a poem, and it was the first time I felt like the poem is where I belong as a writer.

His encouragement in that class, along with that of dear friends over the years, is what has continued to bring me back to the form—even after some long writing dry spells.

How did you hear about Yellow Arrow Publishing? What inspired you to submit your work?

Not long after I moved from Atlanta [to Baltimore] a few years ago, I started to focus on my writing again and took a poetry class with Ann Quinn through The Writer’s Center. Ann works with many of the authors at Yellow Arrow Publishing and encouraged us to submit for their upcoming journal, KINDLING (Yellow Arrow Journal, Vol. VIII, No. 1). I did, and “Boxing Day” became my first published poem. I loved the mission of Yellow Arrow from the start and knew that if I ever finished this chapbook, they would be at the top of my submission list. I’m beyond thrilled that Homing: Poems is in their hands.


The ruins speak to you,
don’t they? I smile, mostly
at the irony of your sound.
A squawk, really. A reminder
that grace can also be jarring,
that sometimes presence is
more memorable
than performance.

“Heron in Blue”

I love the nature imagery in your collection. Can you share your favorite bird and its significance in your life and writing?

Any time I’m near the water, I’m looking for great blue herons. They are the most elegant birds when you see them standing still, but there’s a delightful awkwardness to them, too—almost like they’re out of place and time. I often feel that way, and that out-of-placeness is a throughline in this collection. It’s just one of many examples of how we often look to the natural world and other forms of life to see ourselves reflected back in some universal way.

As an extension of that, can you also share your favorite flower and its significance in your life and writing? 

I am notorious for killing my plants, although I have acquired a slightly greener thumb over the years. The aloe in “Granddaddy Aloe” is the only plant I’ve kept alive for any great length of time. But I do love flowers and generally try to keep fresh cut ones around. Not to be morose, but flowers remind me that delight and beauty are often ephemeral. So, in terms of a favorite flower, it’s usually whatever is right in front of me.

In your experience, how much do our habitats, like the creatures in your poems, speak to our identities?

I think we come to know who we are—as individuals and within the human collective—by recognizing the symbols of ourselves in the world around us. My habitat tends to be a reflection of me, or at least an aspect of my identity in the moment (e.g., the growing pile of unfolded clothes on the bed when I’m overwhelmed and myriad other ways the level of tidy or untidy in my life reflects my state of mind).

So, when I’m in another habitat, natural or otherwise, I think I’m instinctively looking for signs of myself to be reflected back, either for a sense of belonging or for insight about the world and my place within it. That’s what much of this collection and my own growth as a woman and a writer swirl around.


They say “when pigs fly” as if it’s something impossible, fantastical even. But clearly, they’ve never met my sisters and me. 

“Sisterhood”

I loved the magic in your poem “Sisterhood.” What about this relationship drew you to the surreal?

The very nature of relationships, particularly between women, have a surreal quality to me. It’s a collision of stark reality and the magic of living, fantastical or not, that moves us from moment to moment in our shared lives. So, I wanted to try to capture that in this poem and through the surreal form. The sisters in my life—by birth and by friendship—are incredible women, and they are my constant reminder that not everything is beyond my capacity for endurance, for belief, for joy, or for love.

How do you tap into the mystical in the mundane in your poetry (i.e., “Road-Trip Coffee” and “Theme on a Pink Geranium”)?

I so resonate with the philosophy of everyday life as a source of wonder and the sublime. I grew up within a belief system based on an absolute idea of good and bad, heaven and hell, right and wrong, and a goal to make others subscribe to those same beliefs. Very little of what I was taught when I was young had to do with acknowledging the mystery in things and other people. These days, I fall somewhere between agnosticism and mysticism in my approach to life. But at the end of the day, I believe there is more to be gained in recognizing the unknown—and therefore the magic—flowing through our everyday lives.

As a poet, the senses are the vehicle for tapping into this concept. In “Road-Trip Coffee,” I use synesthesia to illustrate the associative nature of our senses within our memories and the feeling of uncertainty that comes in ending relationships. “Theme on a Pink Geranium” uses a familiar melody as the backdrop to a seemingly mundane interaction during a trip to a grocery store. In these examples, and in life in general, I find our senses work together, and in conflict at times, to provide our little revelations about the world and all that we don’t (or can’t) know.


The radio static smokes
out what I’ve wanted to say
for a week—the words,
a little acrid. My voice
cracks into embers
that slow dance by you

“Road-Trip Coffee”

Can you talk about the cover selection process for this collection?

Given the water settings and undefined quality of many of the poems within this collection, I wanted a watercolor-esque look to the cover. One weekend when I was working on this collection, I walked over the first bridge mentioned in “High Tide” and took a photo of myself looking down at my reflection in the water; not in a Narcissus sort of way, but as you do when you take a moment to stop and see where you are and what’s flowing past. Alexa Laharty [Yellow Arrow Creative Director], who designed the cover, was able to take that photo and run with it, creating an image that I think sets up the themes across the collection quite poignantly.

Do you have any advice for fellow women-identified writers?

I’m not sure about advice, but I will share something I’ve been struggling with as a poet in this time and hope it helps others. As this collection gets published, I’ve struggled with relevance. These poems seem so small, so insignificant against the backdrop of the very big things happening to so many people, especially to those who haven’t and still don’t have the voice they should. My poems don’t speak out about injustice, or take a stand, or challenge convention. They reflect, they muse, they wonder, they just are. So, I’ve asked myself why: Why poetry? Why publish? Why assume anyone needs to read what I’ve written?

But I keep going back to an interview Ada Limón did a couple years ago in which she talks about the breath built into poetry and how that’s what we need, especially when we feel like “the wind’s at our back and we’re just being pulled and shoved in a direction without so much as a moment to even recognize where we are.” Poetry reminds us to breathe, and that’s my hope for these poems and the ones I write in the future and the ones that any other poet—especially fellow women writers—are putting out in the world. We must keep breathing, and so we must keep writing.


it’s just me                  and some tulip petals
on the coffee table      wrinkled and fading

in a spreading pool of light

“Morning After”

Are there any future projects in the works you would like to share with Yellow Arrow readers?

I’m working on the sketches for another collection (slowly) and submitting to journals as I polish things, but there’s nothing immediate on the horizon. Just focusing on breathing for now!


Thank you Emily and Melissa for such an engaging conversation. You can order your copy of Homing: Poems at yellowarrowpublishing.com/store/homing-poems-paperback. We appreciate your support.

Homing: Poems by Emily Decker explores the transitory nature of belonging and how we navigate our sense of place within our communities, relationships, and the natural world. The poems in this debut collection reflect on the interconnectedness of the paths we take and the moments along the way—between tides and seasons, in nature, amidst love and friendship, through memory and loss, over generations, and most of all, within ourselves—as we seek, find, and return to a place called home.

Decker was born in Virginia, on the Chesapeake Bay, and spent her childhood in Ghana and her growing-up years in Atlanta, Georgia. She holds degrees in literature and secondary English education from Georgia State University, and her poetry has appeared in Yellow Arrow Journal, Full Bleed, Hole in the Head Review, and Bay to Ocean Journal. Decker currently resides in Baltimore, Maryland, where she also loves to participate in local theater, sing, and sail. Find her on Facebook and Instagram @emadeck or at emilydeckerpoetry.com.


Melissa Nunez makes her home in the Rio Grande Valley region of south Texas, where she enjoys exploring and photographing the local wild with her homeschooling family. She writes an anime column at The Daily Drunk Mag and is a prose reader for Moss Puppy Mag. She is also a staff writer for Alebrijes Review and interviewer for Yellow Arrow Publishing. You can find her work at her website melissaknunez.com and follow her on Twitter @MelissaKNunez and Instagram @melissa.king.nunez.

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