ISSUE NINETEEN: Stymy A Seller | next poem →


Amie Zimmerman

a first clean moment before
the lice hatch       pink meat            holding
my bra in my hand on the stairs            we are rain hair mammals
we drip on what is below us     look between your legs squatting
or your arm’s penis            pointed down            stay on the stairs, fool
on the cusp of abandoned desire           you’ve no friction left      no
bowdrill or flint—that was cinched downstairs with him            ovulating
white eggs of unhatched desire           it’s not top-heavy, too heavy
it’s white            it’s dandelion you are allergic to or      where water
finds its way into the house

Amie Zimmerman lives in Portland, Oregon. Her work has been published, or is forthcoming, in Sixth Finch, Thrush Poetry Journal, Salt Hill, Puerto del Sol, and BathHouse Journal, among others. She has two chapbooks, Oyster (REALITY BEACH) and Compliance (Essay Press), and is events coordinator for YesYes Books. Find her on twitter at @amie_zimmerman.

ISSUE NINETEEN: Stymy A Seller | next poem →


Holly Lyn Walrath
   Orbital Debris

Jane Akweley Odartey
   From a Platonic Angle

Jeni De La O
   After a Hurricane

Tam(sin) Blaxter
   Earrings (Yves Saint Laurent, Paris)

Amy Poague
   The Beforeworld: Riding the Bluest Line
      Through an Archive of Sky

Chris Winfield

Amie Zimmerman

Jill Khoury
   chronic lyric i

Kevin Casey
   Right of Way