Two Poems
Jacqueline Jules Island People Only brave souls build houses on barrier islands. That explains the pig-colored paint on a structure storm winds could huff down like the big bad wolf. It reminds me of a bride who plans an outdoor wedding, certain her prayers will cancel all rain. Island people must sprout from the sand like beach grass, toes pointed downward, nails growing deeper and deeper. How does one grow thick and strong amid shifting sands and high winds? If I stand here long enough, bare toes sunk in the sand, will I break apart like the shattered sea creatures littering the shore? Or will I learn to collect grit and stabilize my anxious coast before it’s swept away? Selling That House I sold that house, she says from the stage. That house where my husband left me for a man; where I hugged booze and pills while the baby cried. Bought a new one, she says, her voice reaching out to poke each shoulder. We sit in rapt rows, butts shifting in our seats, remembering the houses we failed to sell, places where our egos lay bloody on the kitchen floor, murder victims outlined in chalk. Her story from the stage is yellow caution tape across the door. Don't go back! She warns. Not even for one last peek inside. Put on shorts and sneakers and run past, carrying only a spoon to mix the batter of your new life in a kitchen far removed from where you cook today. |
About the author:
Jacqueline Jules is the author of the poetry chapbook, Field Trip to the Museum, published by Finishing Line Press. Her poetry has appeared in numerous publications including Soundings Review, Christian Science Monitor, Imitation Fruit, Calyx, Connecticut River Review, and Pirene's Fountain. She is also the author of two dozen books for young readers including the Zapato Power series, No English, Sarah Laughs, and Never Say a Mean Word Again. Visit her online here. |