Issue 22




Three Poems


Matina L. Stamatakis





Trompe-l’œil 1.1



I could be pigeon or prophet




         learn’d in its tender


 meat                 [yet no memory]

           meat in prayers and catastrophic


          so the holy-holy pulsating in its thrall


palmed omnipotent





Trompe l’œil 1.5



pools dark into light

pools of shimmering teeth  ’gainst

        a red existence

sure  its unbuckling conviction to

       trick itself into mind


               unwavering fractal


choirs of birds lost in their own feathers

  O’ fragmented quarrelsome heads

       O’ critics of specters

               grave in their eelflesh





Trompe l’œil 2.0



          excruciating decoy of atonal pulse

I move you to another melody-lack of malignancy


       the palatable becomes less


 raws itself in the thick of the retina

    In memory of no memory

                              O’ squandered is the macular


impulse of shadows in my palm the dove is

                  angular and oblique

  with the moon  ) O’ mask I still find the contours slack

made of glass           less fluid

            it is not itself by appearances









Poetry by Matina L. Stamatakis has appeared in YEW, Coconut, Milk, Shampoo, The Volta, Free Verse and in E·ratio #7 (this is her ten-year anniversary appearing in E·ratio!).  She currently resides in upstate New York.