Poetry by Jesse Miksic

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A Previous Resident


There are as many stickers
On this door as there are
Days left in the longest month,
Miles to walk to the
Adult care facility,
Gas bills in your bank account.

We stretch ourselves into
A dreamless sleep, but
This is what we wake to,
These tick marks
Not to be erased — Perhaps
The next pair of little hands
Will warm this banister,
Will surrender to our secret language
And in a divine movement
Of misreading, will find
Some trace of joy in it --

The equations we couldn’t balance,
The words we couldn’t find to write.


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Taking Down the Christmas Lights


Several knuckles are
Splitting open in this
Desiccating chill

There is a hunger
In this house, that
Gives the lie to appetite

How many days is this?
Whose evening has infected
My afternoon light?

A dry tongue
In January,

A redness
Suffered upon the scalp.





Bathroom Day

​
The bleach smell wafts up
Into my nose, I get a touch
Of vertigo, scrubbing as I am,
The bathroom almost ready
For its weekly debut, and
John Ashbery is in my earbuds
A crackling voice crafting
Some better artifact from this
Hunk of wasted afternoon, and
I become elsewhere:
How things change, notes
My distended mind to my
Fingertips as they dry.
When I was young how was it
That I had nothing
I hated
Inside me?

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Jesse Miksic is a graphic designer and writer living in Peekskill, New York. He spends his life writing poetry, nursing unfinished projects, and having adventures with his wonderful wife and daughter.  Recent placements include Leveler Poetry, Juke Joint, Bodega Magazine, and others.

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