Oct/Nov 2001 Poetry

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In an ongoing series, the editors, former contributors, and readers of Eclectica have been invited to write a poem containing four pre-chosen words. The words for this issue are splatter, grip, hazel and midnight. Below are the resulting selected poems.

If you would like to participate in the next special poetry assignment, the four new words are kitchen, Neptune, gunshy, and variations. Send your poem to editors@eclectica.org by December 1, 2001.


Appointment, 8-23/4pm

My psychiatrist tries to scrub
me clean with her advice,
as if her words are witch hazel

Tara Brever


What the Stars Know

This is my parent's
house above me, each lambent window
the eye of a god.

Jennifer Finstrom



If there are stars, he can't see
them for the smoke swirling
behind his eyes.

Taylor Graham


Civil War c. 1911

A young girl gulps her breath,
the bonfire ignites

Taylor Graham


What Greta Now Knows

It's always someone else's fault­
a splattering of garbled lies at some
drunken party, a bed she forgot

Amy Crane Johnson



She knew enough
about scones and Princess Diana
and beheadings of queens to carry
on a convincing conversation

Julie King


My Mother Had Hazel Eyes

My mother was short
and she listened to Gershwin
a lot and drank tonic and gin

Robert Lamontagne


Double Yellow

She'd been a tasty
brunette whose hazel-flecked
eyes roamed as his grunts
filled the cab.

Amy Unsworth


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