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jessica dawn zinz

(view original version of this piece.)

(Note: words in [brackets] are occluded by
adjacent words in the original version.)

Love to a rose

[everything we
know to be good,
raised to be good]
love to a rose:

she will [be happy]
suffer a little, on the verge of leaving
like a rose, without ever knowing
her mother

like a rose, she is without a religion
and still holding the gate

[the] Her mother spends [her days] her life [of] [for] [in] with Art.

These things take a long time

“These things take a long time” (F 299-300).
Susan Fromberg Schaeffer, Falling (1973)

Disjointed images of birth and death— not the word “love”

she is submerged and wrapped in oil
in the bottom of a waterfall
with the urge to feed swirling waters.

the city is out of balance,
the city dies by choice

holding the baby I Tried to be to her Mother

The novel leans over

the novel [never] leans over

to answer the [question] echo

waiting at the window

[she] the poet describes herself as

[middle-aged] an empty shell.

She is frozen like
[kids] this baby
is the first
[only] survivor
of [her]
[the restless]
her poetry

like the sun is small
as if it were still

but [I had the ashes]
she has Nothing


[Everyone] Her mother loves you. . . .

These collage poems gather and merge images from a 1934 Good Housekeeping Magazine and National Geographic Magazines from the 1980s and 90s. Text is sourced from Mother Puzzles: Daughters and Mother in Contemporary American Literature (Praeger - December 1989).

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