Spillway of Sand – Amee Nassrene Broumand


August winds promise love.


Crowns become midnight

then amber, then snow.


The love never arrives.




A railroad haunts the living room.


Three steps closer

& the train thunders past

knocking me backwards onto the sofa.

The kettle whistles. I make tea.




Mother tends the snapdragons

in the evening sun. Womb-lidded eyes—

houseboats rock upon bright fog.


Another meteor shower flickers out. Tomorrow,

the stench of blasted apples.

Amee Nassrene Broumand

Amee Nassrene Broumand is an Iranian-American poet from the Pacific Northwest. Nominated twice for a Pushcart Prize, her work has appeared in Sundog Lit, Empty Mirror, Menacing Hedge, Barren Magazine, Word Riot, & elsewhere. She occasionally blogs for Burning House Press. Find her on Twitter @AmeeBroumand

1 Comment

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Rick Kempareply
February 12, 2019 at 11:17 AM

Lovely poem, gathering its force through this succession of fresh and surprising images. Thank you!

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