Poetry By Elaine Zimmerman

Lee Coursey CC




Spinning


She left her coat in the attic closet. 
Never missed it, walking through the rain.
She left her kids in cracked thin hallways. 
Murmuring, on and off the sidewalk’s edge.

She left herself on porches. Walked through
screened windows like a dream or paper doll.
Hopscotch fabric, mauve and yellow ribbons.
Bottle of rum inside drooping pockets.

The face of presence, but not intact. 
Not tactful. Fork, spoon, knife, cloth napkin 
in the lap. Always a dog sitting under 
the table. Always a wolf in the corner.

Hiding by the trees. She would have harmed 
him, had she known. Leaving behind a trail 
of clues. Breadcrumbs. Spit out normal. 
Throw away kindness. Violets. Inviolate.

Words like paper clips. Separate, then stuck
together. Click clack. Sound of doorknob, 
vinyl purse. Zipper on linen skirt. Spinning 
in loud thunder. Pinned under. Click clack.  




​
Recovery Birthday Year One


Song sits in her sleep.
Mostly cello and flute.
Sometimes birds sing.
They disperse now.

Emptiness helps 
a room take shape. 
How long can she 
fill her days anyway?

Listening for purpose. 
Still as air, breath, time.
Often, she doesn’t know 
the full day’s meaning.

Already there, but not 
connected. Like half a
sky, mist cuts the view
in a thick cotton shawl.

If the day unfolds
like a package,
what is delivered
is new. Unexpected.

If the night closes In 
like tobacco, flowers
still open; sweet-smelling
and lush to hawkmoths.





Elaine Zimmerman is a child and family policy leader and poet. Her publications include Rasp, by Orchard Street Press and Era's End, a forthcoming chapbook by Finishing Line Press. Her poetry is published also in journals and newspapers such as the Hartford Courant, New Millennium, New Guard Literary Review, Lascaux Review, and anthologies including Take a Stand: Art Against Hate, Waking Up to the Earth, and Forgotten Women. Recent honors include the U.S. Secretary’s Meritorious Service Award and the Nutmeg Poetry and William Stafford awards.
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