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Grey Sparrow Journal and Press, as of January 31, 2018 will move to Grey-Sparrow-Press.com

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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Stretched 

Her stomach hangs in two deflated flabby folds;
a crepe paper rose crumpled
by the knowledge of its imitation.

Her child thriving despite the absence
of the Slovakian Y chromosome donor,
living in Sydney, busy discarding his Eastern
European skin after screaming fuck you
(not anymore) on Facebook.
                                                                                                                        
Twenty-one years old. Nonplussed thoughts
glide like silverfish—Celexa, Paxil, Prozac,                               
Zoloft. Which one will teach her she’s alive

   because she’s living.

Her child’s eyes; long-lashed,
lit with mischief. Relatives proclaim,
exactly like his mother’s
when she was young.


                                 -Jules Jacob



Dream House

 

I dreamed the familiar dream of a strange house
I can’t place; vast windows and redwood
framed by gray trees bending in lazy moonlight.

The house commands the tides from its cliff throne,
and so did you; when you crashed the car
and crashed your fist through the sliding glass door,
leaving drops of blood sparkling with glass
on the dream house floor.

Last night I dreamed you crashed into my soul,
and my heart rolled from the rocky throne,
floating on quicksilver waves
before sinking into the sanctuary of the sea.


                                          -Jules Jacob



Jellyfish Dance

Crushed. Red and white boxes.
Perfect filters, lights, trays
lazy smoke swirling, relief;
lost in the week’s debris.
 
Clenched. Fists in tattered
pockets. Feeble resolve
rising need and fallen
comfort; tasteless.
 
Demanding smile, petite feet 
glide across the old cement
beach. Arms fluttering, she
jumps into the verdant sea.
 
Commands, look at me, Mama.
Dance like a jellyfish, Mama
like me. Momentarily safe,
temporarily free.
 
 

                           -Jules Jacob