Tag Archives: Volume 15-3

Yellow Daisies,
by Diana Cole

Mornings I place them
by the open window
close to air and light
freshly watered
freshly changed.

I unfold the sheets
and eyes follow me as sun-
flowers follow after light.
Some drift up to touch.
Some fall open.

Petals slacken
like seaweed at ebb tide.
I’ve seen them blanch
as lichen whitens stone
and cheeks shed shades of gold.

For years they’ve seen my day begin.
Oh, let this season be to die in.


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 15, Issue 3.

Diana Cole’s poem Though I Walk, set for double chorus by Thomas Stumpf, was selected by the Pharos Music Project and performed in New York City. Other poems have appeared in numerous journals including Blueline, AvocetOff the Coast, The Christian Century, The Tipton Poetry Journal,  Slipstream, Poetry East, and Spillway.

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At a Slant
by Geri Rosenzweig

I’ve heard there’s no love
in the world but even

the pilot fish passes
down to her children the knack

of living close
to the shark’s mouth.

I’ve never forgotten
the green,

silk blouse my mother
put the finishing touches to

with a cool iron
one summer evening while

I teased my hair
to a 60s bouffant in her mirror

hanging at a slant
above her sideboard;

it keeps me singing towards
the possible.


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 15, Issue 3.

Geri Rosenzweig was born and grew up in Ireland. Work has appeared in Nimrod, Rhino, and Poet Lore. She won the BBC Wildlife Magazine Poetry Award, the Rueben Rose Award, (Visions Israel), the Walt Whitman Poetry Society, NY Poetry Award. She has had two chapbooks published, and a collection, Under the Jasmine Moon (HMS Press, Canada).

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Sleep: An Update
by Alexandra van de Kamp

The body jackknifes—buckles like a dark
road and each thought unfolds: a relaxing
piece of crumpled foil. The trees are fastidious
detectives late for a luncheon and checking
their pocket watches. It rains for the umpteenth
time, like an aristocrat lounging on
an heirloom couch. Looming things can kick
and scratch. Last night my writing desk—
tucked away on an attic floor—fell through
the wooden slats and landed at my dumb toes.
Thunder blooms like orchids in a black and white
photograph and morphs into the shapes
of fashionable shoes. That last clap was a lady’s
laced-up boot, circa 1930. I want to say chandelier
just for the muscular lilt of it, just for the
museum rooms and soap operas of it. Teeth
dream their way through the language
they are forced to chew, but isn’t Italian
an ensemble of hills and sautéed truffles? Cymbals
crash all over the cottage roof and dirt flecks
the opaque covers on the soft bed.


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 15, Issue 3.

Alexandra van de Kamp lives in Stony Brook, NY, with her husband and is a lecturer at Stony Brook University, teaching academic English to foreign students. Her first full-length collection of poems, The Park of Upside-Down Chairs, was published by CW Books (WordTech Press, 2010), and her most recent chapbook, Dear Jean Seberg (2011), won the 2010 Burnside Review Chapbook Contest. Recent poems have been featured on VerseDaily.

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