Jamais vu

Jael Franklin

 

How many times
have I sworn to stop
writing you?  
How many times have I used
my skin when
the paper ran out?

You speak and the
madness blooms
inside me; ebbs and
flows, autonomous, all undulating
colors and déjà vu.  
If I am the night sky, you
are bioluminescent
waters of equal measure.  
We are lost, we are
haunted, but even
a diaspora circles ‘round.  

You are the space
between seasons. 
You are the moment of
weightlessness
I offered as idol worship.
You are
the hinge of dichotomy, sacred
movement in your stillness.  
You are time furrowed like
ribbons, overlapping, this moment
a fractal of a
fractal of
a fractal of
all that will ever be.

I dreamed I swore before God to
forsake my vices if I
could only have salt.  
The salt of the sea which
gives birth to flowers.
The salt of heavy air
which cracks electric.  
The salt of your skin and
my thighs are wet.   
The salt of my
mouth when my
body is dust and clover
grows from my eyes.

 Image from Pixabay

Image from Pixabay


Jael is a capricious transplant from Richmond, VA.  She lives in the Pacific Northwest, where she works in addiction medicine.  She has a Bachelor's of Religious Studies from Virginia Commonwealth University, and often draws from the poetic license of mythology.  Jael enjoys allegory, aphorisms, and alliteration.  When she isn't trying new hot sauces, she writes at https://l0tuseyed.wordpress.com/