By Eric Greinke

In the grasping hands of snow

Beneath the ancient astrodome

Beside a cat with an empty belly

An old woman sat alone

On a soapbox of divinity.

Her eyeglasses flashed

Like metallic windows after dark

Before the fires sputtered & died

In all the great world libraries

From which we crawled, evolved

After centuries of soft neglect,

Beyond bones & muscles & blood.

Her breaths rose like chimney smoke

To shatter like cold glass on the stone floor.




Eric Greinke‘s most recent books are Poets In Review and Zen Duende – Collaborative Poems (with Glenna Luschei).   His collaborative poem, Lone Bones (from Zen Duende, published originally in Forge 9.2), has received a 2017 Pushcart Prize. His work has been published in The Aurorean, California Quarterly, The Delaware Poetry Review, Gargoyle, Ginyu (Japan), The Green Door (Belgium), The Hurricane Review, The Journal (UK), Main Street Rag, New York Quarterly, Paterson Literary Review, The Pedestal Magazine, Poem, Prosopisia (India), Schuylkill Valley Journal, The South Carolina Review, The University of Tampa Review, and many others.

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