Annick Yerem

Barbara Dietl

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the poet

Annick Yerem is a Scottish/German poet who lives and works in Berlin. She's been published by River Mouth Review, Anti-Heroin-Chic, 192 Magazine, Green Ink Poetry, Sledgehammer Lit and more. Annick has also been a guest reader on Eat The Storms and Open Collab. Her first chapbook, St. Eisenberg & The Sunshine Bus, is due out in 2022.

the poems

St. Eisenberg
& The Sunshine Bus

00:00 / 01:10
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            I am sure now that you were sending me signs


            Heavens opened and closed, heat blazed

            through me. The smell of freshly poured

            tar on the motorway, turbines, sunflowers,

            left right centre


            We stopped for a break near parched

            woods, found raspberry gifts, barley

            spikelets, wispy and gleaming like fairy hair


            The damp, green quiet after a big rain,

            fog hanging low in the mountains,

            blurred brake lights


            Midway, I lay down in a parking lot, crying

            on my dog's blanket, trying to make sense

            of what we were doing


            You were sending me signs:

            robins, rainbows, star fish trails


            That day, we drove towards your body,

            to that uncluttered, bright space which enclosed

            your darkness in those last, long years


            That room where, when you left, someone

            opened the vast window, so that your soul

            could find its way out

Belonging

After Brené Brown  |  For Ankh and Cate

00:00 / 00:45
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            You wordful mindsmiths,

            you seawitch patterned beauty

            along cat-eared shores.


            You fill cars with music,

            You send love over thousands of miles

            (I imagine) the air around you smells

            of sandalwood


            You are who you are, no need to

            feed those unkind fires


            You belong here,

            stand your ground,

            will a forest of breath and light

            into being.


            Then steady its roots

            with your ways, your wonders.

When you call me six times
at 1am, I think of One Art

00:00 / 01:06
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            I've made a science out of listening to the space

            between books, the silence between songs,

            tiny increments of time suspended mid-word


            I bring songs to this fight, make mountains

            of lingering doubt disappear, send arrows

            into apple trees.

            Say windfalls, say what

            you see, what you don't.


            Forgetting is so hard to master.

            It is not purpose, not spite, but

            years of fights and fears pulled to

            the surface of an unquiet lake.


            A code for your memories,

            how was your day, your breakfast/lunch/dinner,

            the last book you read? Tell me,

            what can I do to make this better?


            I offer sugarcoated words:

            take a pick, pick three.


            Say I love you.

            Mean it.

Publishing credits

St. Eisenberg & The Sunshine Bus / When you

  call me six times at 1am, I think of One Art:

  exclusive first publication by iamb 

Belonging: Bale of Joy (The Failure Baler)