Suzanne Frischkorn
Place: An Index
“The places in which any significant event occurred become embedded with some of that emotion, and so to recover the memory of the places is to recover the emotion, and sometimes to revisit the places uncovers the emotion.” —Rebecca Solnit
Basement apartment with plastic blue utensil tray,
daily death threats, 91-93
The Hudson River, also known as The River, train
tracks, after sunset, bubble gum factory pinking the
scent of air, time long and deep, a slow current
mixed with hormones and lip gloss, we drifted.
83-86
White walls, white brick, the white hot scarcity of
Woodside Green, a five dollar grocery bouquet on
the white oak table, white mushroom sprouting
from the crevice of white counter and sink, 93-95
Wood chips, sparrow darting out of the bramble,
blue swings, and pond, 78-80
Tulip tree, orange door, ornamental grass and buzz
of mowers any given day, we left screens off the
windows for a clear view and watch pine trees die
of an unjust ailment, tramp a track in the field of
loosestrife, count bunnies on the lawn, 23-24.
Stay with me. Stay with me, 74
Place: An Index
“The places in which any significant event occurred become embedded with some of that emotion, and so to recover the memory of the places is to recover the emotion, and sometimes to revisit the places uncovers the emotion.” —Rebecca Solnit
Basement apartment with plastic blue utensil tray,
daily death threats, 91-93
The Hudson River, also known as The River, train
tracks, after sunset, bubble gum factory pinking the
scent of air, time long and deep, a slow current
mixed with hormones and lip gloss, we drifted.
83-86
White walls, white brick, the white hot scarcity of
Woodside Green, a five dollar grocery bouquet on
the white oak table, white mushroom sprouting
from the crevice of white counter and sink, 93-95
Wood chips, sparrow darting out of the bramble,
blue swings, and pond, 78-80
Tulip tree, orange door, ornamental grass and buzz
of mowers any given day, we left screens off the
windows for a clear view and watch pine trees die
of an unjust ailment, tramp a track in the field of
loosestrife, count bunnies on the lawn, 23-24.
Stay with me. Stay with me, 74
Suzanne Frischkorn’s most recent poetry collection is Whipsaw (Anhinga Press, 2024), winner of the 2025 CNY Book Award for Poetry, and finalist for the Eugene Paul Nassar Poetry Prize. Her honors include a 2026 Ragdale Residency Award, and fellowships from the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, The Writer’s Center, and the Connecticut Commission on the Arts. Her poems have recently appeared in The Cincinnati Review, Denver Quarterly, North American Review, Poetry International, and Latino Poetry: The Library of America Anthology.
Suzanne Frischkorn’s most recent poetry collection is Whipsaw (Anhinga Press, 2024), winner of the 2025 CNY Book Award for Poetry, and finalist for the Eugene Paul Nassar Poetry Prize. Her honors include a 2026 Ragdale Residency Award, and fellowships from the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, The Writer’s Center, and the Connecticut Commission on the Arts. Her poems have recently appeared in The Cincinnati Review, Denver Quarterly, North American Review, Poetry International, and Latino Poetry: The Library of America Anthology.