by gaye gambell-peterson
Thanks again to AAA Antiques (Peoria, Ill.) for the great photos.
Independent small press publishing poetry by women. Poetry reviews, reads, and musings.
Publishing The Midwest Women Poets Series chapbooks - New and established women poets redefining the personal geography of the American Midwest by uncovering the innovative possibilities of a voice that is female, central and pivotal.
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And another one, with an equal amount of grit and good cheer in balance:Omens
There flew the gladdening red bird,
again, again, across my path.
There smiled the pale sliver of moon,
with a bright star at her side.
There bobbed upon flooded river, a bit
of trash that stayed afloat while I watched.
Here bloomed, after two years of making
only leaves, the purple ruffled iris.
There upon my cottonwood sat the
mourning dove – but his back was to me.
I am protected from grief.
I collected these omens so they’d tell me
the truth the way I wanted it to be.
Here on my stoop is one of my kept stones –
flecked gray, rounded, a solidity that reassures.
I turn its damaged side to a corner.
Corticosteroids
“Common: loss of balance; puffy face; chronic trouble sleeping.I am at my open door, breathing,
Rare: a sense of well-being.”
- from a list of side effects
as another day lowers.
Magenta stripe flashes a cloud belly
and Venus elevates,
hangs near my moon.
I let my attitude rise to her,
my lifted face newly full.
Some sort of conjunction, this new
aspect – between exaggerated
euphoria and dire possibility.
I’m awake on the high road,
tilting the light fantastic,
exalting for the stiff-jointed
marionette having left the building.
I am condensed to a quiddity,
leaning against my edges.
She moves away.
Comes back. Gleaming.
You might recognize gaye gambell-peterson as the artist of some previous Cherry Pie chapbook covers (Rotogravure, The Permeability of Memory, and the anthology Breathing Out). Here, she has again created the cover artwork, and also included half a dozen collages inside the book to illustrate her own poems.
pale leaf floating (ISBN 978-0-9748468-9-7) is $10, and available at Left Bank Books, 399 N. Euclid, St. Louis, MO 63108 (ph 314.367.6731). You may also order from Cherry Pie Press -- email cherrypiepress@yahoo.com for information, or download the order form from this blog site.
Jerry and I celebrated a warm (as in not hot) Saturday afternoon by trekking to the Central West End. I had Barry [of Left Bank Books] dig A Stranger Here Myself out of his office so I could buy it. Then, as we waited on a shady sidewalk for our turn on Duff's patio, I read your poems out loud to Jer. What nice moments you provided!...
Huzzah to you, and to your publisher. I am also Greatly Impressed that the suitably flattering back cover blurbs are by Richard Newman and Steven Schreiner. Whoo hoo.
A gorgeous book in every aspect.
gaye gambell-peterson
The brine
Then there's the knife
It's out of proportion
I hear eerie sounds of half-life
Opera
Mermaid’s Pantoum
I am unrepentant mermaid, middle aged.
Flesh and scales still in seemly proportion,
though wrinkled by brine and tattered by time.
Still adored, a diva of fathomed opera.
Flesh and scales still in seemly proportion,
a siren, chanteuse, my voice a knife-edge
shrill, adorned. A fathomed opera’s diva
in a C-sharp half-life, caught in the half-light.
A siren, chanteuse, my voice a knife-edge
cutting through tides. Me, under the weather,
caught in sea’s half-light with only a half-life,
still luring men with plaintive arias.
Cutting through tides, me, under the weather
though wrinkled by brine and tattered by time,
still luring men with plaintive arias.
A middle-aged mermaid, unrepentant am I.
Congratulations on the great poems! The other entries were wonderful, and I hope everyone had fun with the contest.Ending It
Last summer, in the months without an “R,”
we ate oysters, the jagged edges of
the shells were sharp against our tongues, the brine
cool in our throats, delicious as the crisp
sea salt against our skin, the beach bonfire,
the Great Bear asterism far above,
an operatic swell in the timeline
of us, peace tenuous but in our grasp.
But now the months have “Rs.” Also, “-embers.”
You lumber toward me, and I try to move
away; your heavy body next to mine
seems wildly disproportionate. You claspme, kiss me, cold, your lips a slick steel knife
at my throat. No half measures, just half life.
Summer Haiku
paddle boats float
on two tanks
painted copper lake
paddlers wear pajamas
hold champagne flutes
small rising circles
happy tongues
water smoothed
butter knives in cake frosting
orange bursts
over the horizon
sending heat
inside our paper lantern faces
And here is Gaye Gambell-Peterson, designer extraordinaire of two of the Cherry Pie chapbooks covers (Rotogravure, and soon-to-be-released The Permeability of Memory). She has recently admitted to a Barbie fetish, and is seen here on her way to a fundraising event for the local St. Louis Poetry Center.