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	Joined: Jan 10, 2007 Rank: Awards: Location: Last visit: Wednesday, November 12, 2008 (22:15:15) My Occupation: Interests: Signature: "What we need are more people who specialize in the impossible" - Theodore Roethke Biography: Zachary Kluckman lives in a state of animated suspension in Albuquerque, where he publishes and produces poetry for television, page and stage. He is also the founder of the world’s premier poetry advocacy agency, NM Poetry Tangents. Kluckman, who has published and performed broadly, is currently hard at work on his new book, The Bone-Fly Files.
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The Permanence of Chamomile

Her skin is rough to the touch like clothing. Burlap in her tongue. But she smells like chamomile.
When her eyes close to the goodbyes of soap operas and game-shows,
she spins a wheel.
In her mind she’s twenty-two. Men still look at her the way that men do. And she smells like chamomile.
The smile in her sleep tells a private joke. Always a tomboy, her femininity came with children like seals.
Sliding and slipping from her lap. Laughing at her own hard hands, adding lines to her face like orange peel.
She became rough to the touch like clothing. She closed her eyes to the goodbyes of game-shows and grandchildren.
The goodbye kiss brings her close and
She smells like chamomile.
Richer than the earth they plant it in.





The Permanence of Chamomile first appeared in the Dos Passos Review Volume 3, Number 2

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HeavyMetalPoet's Last 12 Poems [ All | Favorites ]
Still-Life on Paper I Ching Winter Writing Butterflies on the Walls Rain in the Desert	The Child The Permanence of Chamomile