Monday, 11 March 2019

A poem by Annie Stenzel

Dictionary II

Now more often found
in a dusty library than
a living-room
outsized volumes
slump in silence

each tome
a fully-furnished palace:
room upon room filled
with words
rarely spoken aloud

languages in casual
or deliberate contact;
brushing one another
here  delicately
there bluntly.

Now silverfish slide
between the pages
where words
are stacked in silent columns:
clambake to clarity

roulade to Rousseau
wharf to wheel.

Annie Stenzel was born in Illinois, but has lived on both coasts of the U.S. and on other continents at various times in her life.  Her book-length collection is The First Home Air After Absence, Big Table Publishing, released in 2017.  Her poems appear or are forthcoming in print and online journals in the U.S. and the U.K., from Ambit to Willawaw Journal with stops at Allegro Poetry, Catamaran, Eclectica, Gargoyle, Kestrel, The Lake, Verse Daily, and Whale Road, among others. She lives within sight of the San Francisco Bay.  For more, visit

No comments:

Post a comment