_edited.jpg){kind=small}
To The Reader
Ann Youmans
I did not know that about your grandmother
When I wrote the scene with the brunch
I did not know you would put off
Finishing the chapter
Almost miss book group
And then drink
Too much wine during the discussion
I knew that not all relatives are missed
But not that your family
Also has Eleanors
I hoped that my writing
Would be evocative of all the senses
But I wasn’t counting nausea
Cold fingers sliding across
Shoulders straightened
By years of therapy
That did not quite unbury
The chronology of the brunch
Where it all erupted
I did not know I’d
Feel the thrum of power
Under my expression of sympathy
That I was still bitter
About the review that called me
the queen of the beach read
I did not know I’d be so glad
To force you to put my book down
Ann Marie Gamble is an editor and writer who enjoys telling stories, experimenting with language, and discovering connections between family, places, and ideas. Her poetry has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and you can find her work in Nixes Mate Review, star 82, and the Heartland Review. In her free time, she organizes volunteers for the Unbound Book Festival and checks out as many audiobooks as the library allows.