Voice sings through static
in the dark.
God forgive
me my body–
jumbled
chirping syllables.
One at a time. Heartbeat
crinkling in a sugarpacket.
Sand on beach.
I’m thankful. No one
inside
but you.
She asks what you want.
Ministerial. Ocean
breeze
through open
window. Flat stale wall.
What do I need?
More salt, more salt, more salt,
amen.
(originally published in Punk Monk Magazine, Summer 2019)
the diet
I sneak
Wendy
into my
bedroom
after our
sugar-beers
the bouquet
in my house
grows sickly
(originally published in The Squawk Back, Fall 2017)
my body is at war against my mind
the soldiers are pleased
they feed at a nearby Wendy’s
if my body the inherited god was a temple
it is no longer
and if I am the only existence I believe in
the war is warring against the concept of self
antibodies against anti-bodies
from one end of the universe
to the other
I am
I am no longer
(originally published in OVS Magazine, 2017)
James Croal Jackson 