Tag Archives: Matt Esteves Hemmerich

Eve

a simple palindrome you wait in a tunnel balanced on the tracks you could have come on a Sunday but we’re never guided till vows transpire you are no sub rosa buried in the snow not a gloaming, nor a … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

View from the Window

The old man sits in the park, Draped in a plaid jacket and coal-dyed slacks With an acrylic scarf nestled around his neck His hair, like strings of pale nylon, Blends in with the flakes of snow; a pair of … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | 1 Comment

cellar

the birds and mist and sweat illuminate our strife I broke handshakes to the northwest my train eased on the Willamette tried to remember the number of something your memory trite and blue dwindling a dark staircase we dare to … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Yia-Yia

a yellow house on angel island is that where you left? your disheveled man waits by the porch. his face, a caricature of a husband once known you didn’t eat, sleeping away those days unfamiliar reveries kept safe in hospice … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment