meat

Production Dinner, 2022

/ James Croal Jackson / Leave a comment

I.

  tonight it is free to clink
           glasses with luxury
      at the steakhouse downtown

              my first
                 Manhattan
               since Day One

       I have been
                              red meat squeezed
                                   of all its blood a puddle
        at your recommendation

                on our plates a weight
                       to our long
         day
                  but hey
                                                    a hundred bucks?

     you produced The Hunger
                                                Games

& film’s
                        a hungry hundred days
                                     believing

the dream is not a struggle

II.

                                              trout on dry
                              land among
          the cattle

                              wriggling
                    out the net we lose ourselves
              in work

yet
                           gorge
       on appetizers

          bacon-wrapped around
each other

                    the shrimp
is not taboo
           nor endless
                                 with buttery bread

I can’t end
                              this twelve-hour
               shift

III.

I long to spend
free time free

but you close
your eyes when

you talk to me
like you can’t

bear to sit
at the same table

in the down-
trodden way

I say hey
this could be

my favorite
restaurant

over and over
to no one

(originally published in bluepepper, Spring 2023)

Pounds of Turkey

/ James Croal Jackson / Leave a comment

I am tired of lunch meat sandwiches
the cold beasts breathing down

my throat of history
harkening if not to past lives

then my previous ones too
sitting alone in Mom’s kitchen

the green and white table
under malfunctioning fan

with a clink in its swing
Wonderbread from Acme

could have been from anywhere
but the taste is familiar if not a burdened kind of sweet

I’ve moved to a Schwebels brand of cheap
wheat always on sale always lasts

for weeks until it’s eaten
this food chain lawlessly evolved

(originally published in The Field Guide Poetry Magazine, Fall 2023)

M I N T

/ James Croal Jackson / Leave a comment

We wandered the meat-factory-
turned-art-gallery, white wall to
white wall, wondering when to
dispel our abstract selves–
positive, negative, we followed
lines from canvas to grate where
blood of cattle used to drain,
where old concrete holds imprints
of feet. My hand sank into yours
that first time. I still see it there.

 

(originally published in Cold Creek Review, Spring 2018)

SpaghettiOs

/ James Croal Jackson / Leave a comment

The bowl is where
the howls come from–
OoOoOoOoO!
A broken-record werewolf
in this microwave-boiled,
tomato-red September.
I have been trying to form
the words to say to you
with only a vowel.
When you left
for some knockoff white-hat,
greasy Chef Boyardee
I went to the zoo
to study manatees,
but they, too, are a migratory
species. I saw the first of its kind
take on a mangrove but emerge
fish-in-mouth. She floated to her
friend or brother or lover
and squealed syllables
until the other swam away.
I guess no one communicates
with each other the proper way
anymore. All these sounds
these OOOs and Os
processed uneaten

 

(originally published in The Oddville Press, Spring 2018)

Why Dogs Would Be Great Film Directors

/ James Croal Jackson / 1 Comment

It was tough to leave for work this morning,
collie’s silhouette usually at the top of the stairs
a shadow slinking, eyes glowing.

Your heart nearly stopped flailing its arms
as it sank deeper and deeper into the ocean.
When you watched Silver Linings Playbook
you saw your dog in the face of Bradley Cooper
those dark eyes shining in the greater darkness–

driving home with the key stabbing the ignition,
you drove wanting anything to please you.

It wasn’t in the trees or the swaying lights
or the Post-It notes crumpled in the bagless bin–

no, collie ran in circles. You reached for a treat,
your heart compiling sand and blowing glassworks–

collie on set with Bradley Cooper, his eyes
on her galvanized eyes and all she wants is ham
you’ve never seen a ham this juicy and
why am I excited about ham and

collie with her eyes makes Bradley
see the ham, want the ham,
want the ham like never before.

(originally published in Nude Bruce Review, Summer 2016)