a poetry e-zine










Poems By Christine Simek

I knew she was in me,
a quiet train pushing under the bridge
at West Point. Conceived
by a sort of fairy tale—
her voice came too late. The first day,
two multi-vitamins
and a glass of milk, by nightfall
I eyed hangers in my closet,
a tablet of high-dose hormones
the only remedy. Her story
ended with a rupture—
a flowing red stream down
iron stained pipes. Buried
inside walls of blood, attached
to a spigot fattening
her like a pig for slaughter,
the burn of desire was her
birthright. Ruin would come when
she emerged hungry and alone—
expunged from her house
of water she’d choke
on what was meant
to sustain her.
Like me,
on that night when our resolve
froze, and I fixed on a depth
I longed for but could never reach.

How I clung to you.

Christine Simek is a mother and yoga teacher who lives in New York City. She is enrolled in the Bennington MFA program.

Copyright 2007  Chantarelle's Notebook