FEBRUARY POETS

As a Swipe-Card Slave to the Militant Unemployed

By

Jessica Maybury

Dear #OccupyEverywhere

I passed Dame Street with

my mother my friend my cousin my

uncle and they she him they said

there’s the people with no jobs

and in a recession in a clusterfuck

such as this I felt

envy. 

And Speak of Shadows

By

Jessica Maybury

The fall is endless.

Through air,

 ice,

water;

 all possible refraction of

illusion,

of angle,

of mile-per-hour.

This is a chaos of wonders.

This is the sound of it,

these open mouths,

that wind.

Nothing but this tumble

and my

staggering to grasp you,

joints

clicking.

Smooth.

You

carve me up neatly.

You

parcel my inner secrets.

My flesh

pinpricks

the sky.