Open Call 2019, Poems - James Croal Jackson



You got married Saturday

By James Croal Jackson

and I should have been sad
but look my car has passed

you I drive ninety-five west
on I-80 in a who-cares lane


though now I am becoming
anxious in this fantasy as a


rebel driver I realize I
thrust the gas pedal at any


one who laughs with me and
sticks with me and touches


my hand and chest my heart
a thing that thrusts the pedal


until jammed accelerating
I never look out the window

to see landscapes blur
all the fields the same




Tell me your wildest
vacation fantasy. There
we will visit our home.


I dream of caves–
stalagmite fingerprints.
The drop, the black bat,


meat. There
we’ll forget light
and its animals.


James Croal Jackson has a chapbook, The Frayed Edge of Memory (Writing Knights Press, 2017), and poems in Pacifica, Reservoir, and indefinite space. He edits The Mantle ( Currently, he works in the film industry in Pittsburgh, PA.


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