Evelyn Posamentier









at a pretend tea party

i’m left with optimism & good taste

one calla lily is ready to burst into tears

it was an age i didn’t count on

greed & loss of privacy, served

chilled with summer fruit

i struck out early one morning

before april rains pulled their magic

on a pond filled with angel fish

it is for them i emerge



Intrigue, Elizabeth Jameson, 2010





a pair of eyeglasses in a plastic bag, ziplocked

underground corridor, escort required

between the morgue & the hospital

i’m interrogated by the walls, all overhead bulbs

once in my life i’ll pick my father’s things up in the morgue

only one january, no other

thud of dirt on the box, pass the shovel to mother





in dreamland the building is not up for sale

& in no rush to befriend the building inspector


in dreamland there is no hole cut in my ceiling

exposing old, sleeping pipes skirted in asbestos


in dreamland the tarp catches the friendless

dust, the plumbing disrobing an asbestos sheath


in dreamland the ceiling gash will open its mouth

for the plumber, who asks, « can you open wider »?


in dreamland the dust eludes the tarp in secret

in dreamland i dream a great big sleep



 Blue, Kimberly Nichols, 2011





birch trees all day on the train westbound through

siberia, the numbness, one day asia

will be a dot in the back

of your mind, you may

remember the circumstances:

how is it you smiled so

oddly in the forbidden

city, i ask myself

as i walk from car

to car


birch trees running backward

a train that swallowed itself, a life

that stumbled along the route, while

people privately traded small

parcels of madness, agreements

& arrangements.  the camera

broke, i performed an autopsy

on anxiety.  the dream snapped

& noises came from the corridor

someone mentions the urals

another steers the dream





a cease fire is arranged between the mind & the body

but the paperwork is ignored, skirmishes continue

the wounds are brought to a temporary hospital

a wail issues forth from the house of healing

it cuts the sky & the cry of the ram’s horn

limbs, fractures, great pain & so forth

a staff of attendants do what they can

the battlefield is quiet & suspect, lies ripe

as a broken treaty






appears in brainiography


the girl in the photo competes with the paintings

a riot of posture, of color


the air between shudders

the girl in the photo prays for a cure


the color of disease permeates

the frame of each painting


this is the doing of time gone astray

brain does its best to reassure each day


disease turns aside

visitors depart with the cure



Flush Bruise, Kimberly Nichols, 2011





wildcats in the canyons where the ocean

no longer whispers.  west of my life

the winds fill the dry grass with hope

i am thinking about my father

& how he passes his time among the dead

one year he drove across the country, no stops

the next year he did the same thing

he thought time would not recognize him

he wore dark glasses, spoke with an accent

i am wondering what the roads know, which highways

knew him











Evelyn Posamentier‘s recent books are Poland At The Door, brainiography, and Royal Blue Car. Her poems have appeared in such journals as the Yale Journal of Humanities in Medicine, New York Quarterly, Drunken Boat, 3 a.m. Magazine,  Mississippi Review,  Parthenon West Review, Free Verse, The Quarterly Journal of Ideology, and the American Poetry Review, among others.


Here are links to her online books:


Intrigue, Elizabeth Jameson, 2010



Flush Bruise, Kimberly Nichols, 2011



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