Bio Note: I'm Jess L Parker, a poet and strategist originally from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I currently live in Fitchburg, WI with my husband, 18-month-old son, and Pitbull, “Poe”. My debut poetry collection, Star Things, is winner of the 2020 Dynamo Verlag Book Prize and my poems have appeared in Gyroscope Review, Kosmos Quarterly, Blue Heron Review, and elsewhere. Enclosed poems are part of my second manuscript in progress.
From the western most window a cosmic buzzing bleeds through. August air, thick as silence, coats our tongues. Satellite like a salamander in outer space waggles fervently, chasing her own tail. Meanwhile Universe, that crumbly saltine cracker is night-air-stale and nothing but blackness save for tiny perforations becoming tomorrow. I listen close. A buzzing grows in urgency, threatening to abandon homogeneity with a throb, off kilter, that can only mean falling. Falling, but also a denial of falling— clinging to the cosmos— an incessant thrusting. Satellite digs her heals like a top spinning to one side, knocking her head on the floor in a silent prayer to be upright. By the time we are outside, she’s spun out of orbit and, reaching for herself, falls for the lake like the crest of a wave when it breaks…
There he is vroom vrooming his wheely toys on the carpet, on my arm, my knee, my forehead. Baby baby, he says, daddy daddy, mommy mommy! And then, outside, outside, outside, which is always a question. Eleven months is around the time for other questions to come needling their noses up too… like, isn’t it about time he had a sibling? Never mind the price my body paid, that some wounds actually don’t heal with time, or that he is perfect. Like this. When the summer sun catches one sky blue eye through a dusty window, he looks them at me, locking his ocean on my evergreen and he sparkles. No, I think, he is enough.
©2022 Jess L. Parker
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