August 15, 2012 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION












De Jackson



I don’t recall the day my name be

-came a swearword on your forked


tongue; perhaps always there, wait

-ing to be spit into the dying embers


of us. Consonant, vowel, disembowel

-ed and left for dead, the dread of the


keys in the lock or the knock that meant

you misplaced them again, the linger


-ing scent of sin on your skin and the

way your burning eyes no longer see me,


the yearning in my bones for something

more, the way the door feels so very far


away. The day I cracked this tilted cage,

crumbled this tired rage, fumbled, fled


and found what had been waiting all

along: These syllables of me, a song.








De Jackson



she wishes

she were packing

blues and greens

the colors of the sky and sea

in places they never got to be.


but she is not.


she wants

to be carelessly tossing in

yellow sundresses

and floppy pink hats, flats

and the silken turquoise scarf.


but she is not.


she walks

to the bed

lays somber clothes

inside a half-empty suitcase

and closes the lid on his life.


she waits

for the tears

and the taxi

to arrive

because she is living, breathing, leaving


and he is not.



Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6


  1. gmc September 13, at 11:50

    ON SWALLOW FIELD There's a song in the air Cruising hearts and souls Like an early morning Shining under a wisteria dew The wind blows from the hand Drawing circles of jasmine It's time for the desert rose To celebrate the white wedding Not a road on this wilderness Only savages play the survival A fiddle is dropping golden traces Mimosa memories as bright as old crows

  2. Jill September 11, at 09:40

    Hi I enjoyed reading The August Poetry......some wonderful phrases and words which delve deeply into one's innermost thoughts....particularly enjoyed Anne's two poems. Thanks for sharing. Jill

    • Anne Bradshaw February 08, at 14:05

      Thank you so much, Jill! I've only just seen your kind comment, and I agree - some great poems that month from all contributors. Thanks also, Tuck, for showcasing the work here.

  3. lyngheathbooks, Norwich. UK August 22, at 08:37

    An exciting new talent emerging in Cat Holt's poetry. Always ahead of the reader, some great lines -"Then more stop started out" - "Dusk purple air" - and surprising twists along the way. More please.

  4. Sam August 17, at 10:59

    Wonderful as usual Cat, I love the darkness of the second and the appreciation that beauty can be found in anything :)

  5. Sara V August 17, at 10:27

    De two amazing poems!! Love them both, such images and emotion with potent endings, wow:-)

  6. Pearl Ketover Prilik August 16, at 14:05

    Bravo De - I do believe "Packing Black" has become a new favorite :). Simply, viscerally, lyrically, emotively, exquisite - juxtaposition of searing regret and empowerment. Repeated lines - ripple - long after Again Bravo!

  7. Linda H. August 15, at 22:46

    These are wonderful. The first is so thought-provoking; the second so emotional. Great work, De.


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