Poetry by Jess L Parker

      Brian James CC




Anyway

His head is heavy in the crook of my 
neck—he loves when I’m the bigger 
spoon. This makes us a constellation 
too, many shattered stars that, together,
are something else entirely. 

I begin to envy the bead of sweat
that traces his collarbone and recall
that it’s me also. My tongue, the tip
of my forefinger. I suppose I cannot
envy myself though I would if I could.

Instead, I open my eyes stark in the middle
of night. A damp night with an endless,
gaping center and he tells me that to wake
this suddenly will shave years off my life.

So, the next time I am jolted and want to bolt,
I let the weight of him wake me slowly. The 
imperfectly timed rhythm of his breathing,

                         a hypnosis.

I count his eyelashes like landmarks, like
not yet wishes. I make them anyway.

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Jess L Parker is a poet and strategist from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Jess lives in Fitchburg, WI with her four-year-old son. Her debut poetry collection, Star Things, won the 2020 Dynamo Verlag Book Prize. Jess’ poems have appeared in Bramble, Kosmos Quarterly, Blue Heron Review, and elsewhere. Jess holds a B.A. of English and Spanish from Northern Michigan University, an M.A. of Spanish Literature from UW-Madison, and an MBA.
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