Tiny Red Daggers by Josh Weeks
March 3, 2018
2 Poems by Genevieve DeGuzman
March 5, 2018

4 Poems by James Croal Jackson

KENTUCKY MURDER MYSTERY

no blood
where they found
my uncle
on the kitchen floor

hole in his heart
gun on steel barstool

on the drive to the wake
my aunt admits
she suspects
the eldest son

when I meet him
the first thing he says is
someone stole my idea
when I wrote Dexter in the 90s
I always wanted to write
about serial killers

when searching the room
no foam erupts from
volcanoes of old couches
no fingerprints to find

his suicide does not add up
my aunt says again and again
examining scrubbed floors
for heavy footsteps to appear
when nothing else will

 

THAT CONVERSATION WE DELAYED

phone call–
distance. silence.
static tethered to words
back-of-throat now wandering clouds.
farewell.

 

COUNTRY MUSIC

the bleeding radio repeats the same
dead guitars their necks and bodies

another day strings stretch rained
bullets for old fingers to play half-

mast country white and blue so red
throats the shallow soundless holes

peered into to sing sand to bury
the chorus of another city’s silent

prayers God never intends to act

 

VALENTINE’S BOX

pink cube of lukewarm touch
crumbs a trail to what end
these futuristic forever years
longing
sugar
consume each day
then close

 


About the Author

 

James Croal Jackson is the author of The Frayed Edge of Memory (Writing Knights Press, 2017). His poetry has appeared in Hobart, FLAPPERHOUSE, Yes Poetry, and elsewhere. He edits The Mantle, a poetry journal. Find him in Columbus, Ohio or at jimjakk.com.