Spring 2006

Anna Mantzaris


Anna Mantzaris Anna Mantzaris holds a B.A. from Sarah Lawrence College and an M.F.A. from Mills College. Her work has appeared in publications including Salon, the Bullfight Review, and the San Francisco Chronicle. Her short story, “The Girl Who Could Take the Most Electricity,” was nominated for Best New American Voices 2005. She is a former writer-in-residence at Hedgebrook (Whidbey, Washington), and the Kimmel Harding Nelson Center for the Arts (Nebraska City, Nebraska).
From "A Grandmother Series"    

I. The Grandmother steals the egg. Her pockets are large, gaping. Fashioned from seagreen silk.  There is a deep, frayed hole with blisters in places you cannot see.

II. It is the little girl that helps. A thick napkin. A cry for water. A look in the right direction.

III. The mother is angry when she discovers the egg has gone away. She mixes the thick soup. Until it disintegrates.

IV. The father is lost to the wolves.

V. The older girl wants her egg back. She painted it carefully, methodically, creating a town of lines with no center. She did this with the swirling, inky liquid smelling of dark and hot vinegar. This came after she blew out the thick, heavy yolk. After she pierced the smooth ends with an anxious and tired pin.

VI. It's a secret.

VII. The grandmother buys a dress (molted silk in champagne dice). She buys this dress in 5, 7, 9, and 11. The quartet waits in the back of the closet. They wait behind a lard of sweaters, swimming pools of shoes. Years later it is the little girl that cleans out the closet with the lavender sweat. It is the little girl that finds the egg nested in the crooked tip of a collapsing gold shoe. She will not remember to tell. A size the grandmother never wore.

VIII. Now: The grandmother is gone. The mother is worn. We do not know where the father is.  The girls are timed.  



Anna Mantzaris: Poetry
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