sober

On Twitter Yael Asks to Be Messaged a Secret

/ James Croal Jackson / 1 Comment

So: since I stopped drinking,
my sugar-craving’s intensified
tenfold. This volcano-
shaped silhouette inside me
needing peaked with white
sweet snow. Now no one knows
but you– I went to Kroger
in this cold April rain past
bleating trains and dovetailed
straight for the candy and cookie
aisles. I took advantage of the
sales, stocked Oreos and Hershey’s,
went to self-checkout. I did not
want a stranger to know my blue-
bagged shame that began
unwrapping in the car,
bar after bar, but here
you are.

 

(originally published in Hamline Lit Link, Summer 2020)

Transition

/ James Croal Jackson / Leave a comment

I walk this familiar street
of spring. Cherry blossoms,

sunshine, the desire
to drink. Yesterday

I snuck into a field
with a flask to avoid

the knife room I
tell myself to stay

out of. My longing a black
rolled-up rug. I tell myself

Stay wound, trying how
I can before I let again

the drunk in me to walk
through the door,

spill me out in scuff
marks and mudprints

just after the rain.

 

(originally published in Penmen Review, Summer 2019)

Frosted Flakes

/ James Croal Jackson / 1 Comment

To curb today’s desire
to drink, I part the
lips of a childhood
friend– Tony the Tiger
on cardboard blue–
and rip the bag
to snow
a bowl of corn
and white.
Nintendo used
to be my fix,
controller gripped
through loud
and colorful
screens
until the light
of morning.
And when I
started drinking
I didn’t think
one day
I’d need
to stop.
I eat
bowl
after
bowl
until
I
pour
the

d

u

s

t

.

(originally published in Goat Farm Poetry Society – Edges Zine, Winter 2019)