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Three Poems photo

January 17, 2022

Three Poems

James Croal Jackson

Quarantine (March 17, 2020)

Through the west wall
our neighbors still
decide to get drunk.

You go into the basement,
pull out a red bag–
hammer and nails.

Framed photo of your great-
grandfather, we
slam it on the wall.

We’re stuffed
with a dry night
cough. We’re stuck

inside. Finally.
A good reason
for the rain.

Beer Pong

beer pong is concentric
angles & behind-the-back
a miracle of physics

not that I understand
the finer maths of sport
I held an endless reservoir

of alcohol schoolnights turned
blue-lipped and blurred
pages flipped to

one time

awakening on a bed of roses
at the belly of Constitution Hall
staring to the vacant moon

soaked in sticky juice a book
with its pages torn out

Frailty and Fervor

     the religiosity of longing

               potatoes are my new church
long-lasting water-scrubbed love

               in the oven eleven of them
     I want you to count

     our time remaining
                   provided what we want
                         we really want

is growing underground in vast distant fields
     if we could see well enough to count