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July 2013, vol 9, no 2

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Jennifer Met

In a Blink

Lying on the couch under a crochet blanket, the black and red yarn a good weight on my unsure skin. Watered down ginger ale, a bucket just in case, an old rerun of I Love Lucy playing in the background. I drift. I will the day to pass—unremarkable, unremembered—to just be gone and wiped from existence.

an early frost—
the old frog's eyes
above the mud

Oh what a joy to be young! To enjoy the simple luxury of sleeping through my sickness—to command my soul to transcend the first step to heaven, knowing that it will lounge there, loitering at heaven's gate, sitting lazy-patient on the stoop, out waiting the pain and leaving my mind free from sweat-soaked aches. Yet knowing that when I give the slightest pull it will return—that I may wake tomorrow in full spirit again.

a jumping frog—
spring again, spring