|
Poems
by Mark Jackley
Ancient History
my ex and I stare at each other hard eyes
and my memory sails from the cold cliffs
of our silence and hatred and lands in the steaming
bay of the pre-natal clinic where
we sit and she leans into me and kisses me
slowly erotically in front of the other
young mothers oh that was before
the wars and the plagues
when I bowed and she shown
like a temple
When Phil Told the Office
He Had Terminal Cancer
No one, least of all I,
wept or wailed. No one
banged his fists against
the walls. Or chanted
in prayer. For we are not
a primitive people,
so we stared, mumbled
regrets and let the shadow
pass, before slipping back into
the coolness of our cubes.
Falling Asleep on the Couch
And so it ends as it began,
curled up and clinging
to all that I can. Cool
blue light of TV blanketing
me, I drift, Eskimo,
to some true north
on my poor floe,
before the snow,
before the snow.
Next Poem 
|
