Tag Archives: Jessica L. Walsh


by Jessica L. Walsh

She’d been wrong about much
it turns out   Turns out accident
is the larger bowl
                                        the one that holds her whole
thigh bare against dawn             skin
passed from mosquitos to flies               her lips broiled
hard just above the sheet

Turns out her house was spring-loaded with causes

Her arms were cork guns
                                                                    She thought you knew

But turns out she was overdue
A thing like that               how long could it go on

Accident was a graceful favor to wave
over her as she swirled down

The coyote never came               turns out


On the Arrival of Blue Roses

by Jessica L. Walsh

                              –for Tennessee Williams

Cern’s disobedient light came after roses
as though physics’ marble laws
in terror turned liquid

matter gaining speed
breathless nearly dying
to make up the dim undeniable blue

This is the fact of the impossible
Nothing you could imagine
can never happen

There can be no such creature
the chemist cried out
after proving such creature must be

We are always on the hook
the line the sinker     We are caught
only to be thrown back

Think of that first dinosaur unearthed
the bones dated the Victorians watching as
their other worlds burned

the flood the giants the gospel
usurped by a thigh bone
pulled from the quarry

God and roses are relatively untrue
Thus I must prepare for the day
when I wake up alone

am drunk before breakfast
writing poems to you like a teenager reading
your poems like a teenager

who sees herself in every line
where beauty can be circled
underlined and proven

Tom I will cry my Tom
let’s undo the blue roses   Pass
the bottle with the day

Naked and Chewing

by Jessica L. Walsh

What we needed my friend
was the art of distraction

We wore the trail
grey and cold because
a fixture is nothing to note

I think now evasive was the way
to go Serpentine

As it is someone tipped the writers

They lurk like clocks
I said nothing I know my mouth

Yours too I thought but here
the uncoiling is upon us
Territory over appetite

understand I can account only
for the end of what you started

Morning and noon

are barricaded fuel soaked ready set on fire
Your skin is giving you up

I am afraid I am
the only exit

You turn ready
to cough up my name
and I am all canines through your lips
I take the years in my teeth
and give nothing back I
promise nothing

For all that you are safe
in the code I keep at the back of my
iron throat

The quiet is coming
and it will sound much like

This Age of Weapons

by Jessica L. Walsh

Only the unrecorded is merciful

Me   I side with paint and chalk
I will take renderings
but me     I am a holdout
                                                    a homesteader
rifle cocked to keep you off my worthless rocky dirt

I will sit on this porch until we meet
in the sinkhole

Meantime you run the quarry       where sweaty
unfed children drag glinting stones
to the surface     only to dump them in shiny heaps

The line of stones glows all night
You hardly sleep for sorting the cold hard

No one needs so much
There is a thing known as too much

I promise all I want is the lifeless mine

I have no more use for your miniature