Spillway of Sand – Amee Nassrene Broumand

I

August winds promise love.

Crowns become midnight

then amber, then snow.

The love never arrives.

II

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.

III

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 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