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Two Poems – Amie Zimmerman

Amie Zimmerman lives in Portland, OR, with her teenage son and three catz. She has been published online, included in anthologies, and has a chapbook (“Kelley Point“) available at Powell’s. She cuts hair for wages and writes for love.

It’s Not Too Late To Salvage The Piece of Glass That Surfaced On Your Knee

The milk dregs.

I looped several million hairs of sheep for your death blanket, the one
they shrank after your death.

You said it was tiny seizures you were having as your brain made
room for the tumors.

Yellow skin.
Fat ankles fattening.

We sat together when John Kerry lost. I pushed a cart slowly the next
day at Trader Joe’s.

Unnaturally colored wigs.

I waited up several nights in a row. You died during the one when I slept.

Nursing my son, he and I both cried.

I still have the cast of your torso in the room under my stairs.
It’s not a ghost.

Many nights I was drunk when you shuffled to your pill box.

Often I try to forget you told me where your sex toys were.

I came in to say goodbye, pushed against your skin and everything
that filled you pushed back hard.

In The Five Days Since You Left

I.
The shower got me clean but standing
naked keeps clothing me again and again.

II.
Half the water and half the amount
of everything and it is either too potent
or I’ve forgotten how to take a measure.

III.
A blanket tent. The glaciers
bum-rush my bedroom.

IV.
A prohibition of stars and of whispers
over unlawful shoulders.
A prohibition as unbutton/or.

V.
I don’t believe in returning. I use
the telephone. I use butterknives.


“It’s Not Too Late To Salvage The Piece of Glass That Surfaced On Your Knee” + “In The Five Days Since You Left” are both previously published in Fuck Art, Let’s Dance Issue #012.

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Filed under: Fuck Art, Let's Dance, Poetry

About the Author

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Jeremiah Walton is wary of bios, but there's the current sign they're flying: “Jeremiah Walton is founder of Nostrovia! Press & traveling bookstore Books & Shovels. They’ve featured at the NYC Poetry Festival, Oakland Beast Crawl, San Francisco Lit Crawl, Death Rattle, the Kansas City Poetry Throwdown, Cleveland’s Guide to Kulchur: Snoetry, among other lit fests, street corners, & living rooms across the country. They loath-themselves, & are struggling to find a healthy extension of the poem that incorporates publishing. Consistently confused, & trying to make space for compassion for the parts of myself I hate.” That feels like tattooing "love me" across my neck, but hopefully you get to know me thru my poems, not the accolades that are nothing more than memories to let go of.

1 Comment so far

  1. Pingback: Nostrovia’s 2016 Best of the Net Anthology Nominations | Nostrovia! Tavern

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