Tracy Zeman
Large Stone on Body, Birch Branches Above
Arriving by flatboat by upland plain
as the Ohio empties into the Illinois
the sweet singer whistles
his peabody song his “heart of hay”
of heath aster of the meadowlark’s black bib
Often flesh often keep-sake often scrap
of key or spoon or coin buried
on a ridge a white-footed mouse
in a woodcock’s nest blue grama swaying
on the split slope steppe
Carved stone positioned near a road
marks marsh border lake & the driest hills
“we for ourselves” they thought or last snow
of the season try to make permanent
what was yellow flax so lovey in spring
Tracy Zeman’s poems have appeared in Beloit Poetry Review, jubilat, Cutbank, The Sonora Review and other journals. Her manuscript Empire of Grass was recently a finalist in the Tupelo Press First/Second book contest and The Colorado Prize for Poetry and was a semi-finalist for the Alice James Beatrice Hawley Award. Tracy currently lives in Springfield, IL with her husband and daughter.