Australian-born Katrin Talbot’s collection The Waiting Room for the Imperfect Alibis is forthcoming from Kelsay Books and she has seven chapbooks, Wrong Number, forthcoming from Finishing Line Press, The Blind Lifeguard and Freeze-Dried Love from Finishing Line Press, Attached—Poetry of Suffix, The Little Red Poem and noun’d, verb, all from dancing girl press, and St. Cecilia’s Daze, published by Parallel Press. She has two Pushcart Prize nominations and quite a few chickens and also makes noise in the viola sections of the Madison Symphony and Wisconsin Chamber Orchestra.
Hemming Caesar’s Trousers
We all know she’s going to die in the first scene of act three, but she can’t die tripping on her Savers’ trousers, so I snip, press, and stitch And as I hem with the stitch my grandmother’s hands taught me, life tightens up a bit with each slipping of needle Forward, with reverse stitches to hold, like a dance step, like a step towards the building of an empire
The Bathtub of Coriolanus
Blood and muscle, it’s a scrubbing of so much, a lingering as he recounts, counts the battles, the wounds, the Tribunes, the very nature of Win as the drive to kill fades for a moment with the hot soak, as the tub holds, until the draining and toweling, the fight tight
Today You are a Museum Wing
Gilded frames hang around each eye, catching the glare of your gaze Today, your nonsensical nose sports a 17th century dark Spanish frame You smell, smell like, saffron, garlic, good intentions Your cheekbones have a wall unto themselves, hung high and inaccessible For this exhibit, smiles have been put in storage, wrapped and cloistered And your mouth today has no frame, in its gallery of humming and chanting, lips parted with suggestions of snarl, good will and edged benevolence