Used to be you’d be the one

I’d tell balloons to– the moon

changed positions in the sky,

obscuring Orion. I’d wake

and brew you coffee dark

as peering down a well,

then drop into your cosmos,

dreams you just survived

in the night. This left me

an azure hue to proceed

through the day, delivering

good news of bread and butter

to those who were hungry

in my chosen city’s streets

of lead. I’d hold gold. Now

I am present in the intersection

of three rivers, a bridge

standing on steel Xs on

a stack. I want to be a pillar

for all who drive me home.



 James Croal Jackson


James Croal Jackson is a Filipino-American poet who works in film production. His latest chapbooks are A God You Believed In (Pinhole Poetry, 2023) and Count Seeds With Me (Ethel Zine & Micro-Press, 2022). Recent poems are in Beltway Poetry Quarterly, Little Patuxent Review, and The Round. He edits The Mantle Poetry from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. (jamescroaljackson.com) 

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