Poetry by Emma Galloway Stephens

Emma Galloway Stephens is a neurodivergent poet and professor from the Appalachian foothills of South Carolina. Her poems have appeared in Red Branch Review, The Christian Century, Door is a Jar, Salvation South, and many others. She’s the author of No Billboard Gospel (Solum Literary Press, 2026). Read more at egstephenspoetry.com.

Storm Sonnet

The clay cracks beneath my feet.
The dogs and deer have dust to eat.
The pines snap, drained of sap,
and the grass is silt and ash.
The sky cracks with dry lightning,
threatening the roofs of homes
and barns with knife-bright hooves.
I can’t recall the kiss of water
on my skin, sheets of silver
fit for dancing in. This rotten ground
the shade of sin cannot bear the fruit
of peace. The angry air demands release.
Lord, if your justice falls like rain—
when will the hungry storm begin?

Bullfrog

Bullfrog, bullfrog, emerald green—
the biggest gem we’ve ever seen!
Made of mud and slicked by water,
glossy, bright, fresh from the tumbler.
Is there a thought behind those eyes,
or only dreams of worms and flies?
Oh, sage of green in slimy cloak,
we wait for your prophetic croak.
One ribbit from your puckered mouth
might resurrect the bog-bound south.