Poetry by Jennifer Fox

                              JJBers CC



​​Noise

I walk through the mall at 3:30 on a Saturday
seeking gym shoes and inspiration from 
people snapping gum and selfies
dancing to TikTok videos as they
laugh and yell and shove salted pretzels
and tongues down their throats
a real motley crue of characters
too young to appreciate the reference.
                                                  But all is still.

Storefronts are gated with FOR LEASE
signs peppered across them
clothes racks lay on the ground beside empty
shelves and scattered papers and naked
mannequins who stare up at me 
with sad eyes and missing legs.
                                                 The ones left behind.

And for the first time I can hear the hum
of fluorescent lights and the squeak
of my worn shoes against the linoleum
still sticky with slushy residue
marveling at all that was lost
in the noise and wonder
what comes next now that 
it is gone. And I sit, and I listen,
                                                And I wait…

​

Jennifer Fox is a western New York native and is currently earning her MFA in Creative Writing at Lindenwood University, where she works as an editorial assistant for The Lindenwood Review. Her work will be appearing in an upcoming issue of Disquiet Arts.

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