Issue 24 – Spring 2013 – Tracy Zeman

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 ReviewjubilatCutbankThe 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.