passed like a wavering wristwatch.
teeth quietly chattered.
the spider-leg-frizzy occiput.
raw morning shampoo. like an apple.
or butterflies. blunt sides of pins.
the polyester blanket soaked
from evening vinegar.
collected like dust.
James Croal Jackson dips his feet in the waters of music, film, and poetry. His work has appeared in The Bitter Oleander, Glassworks, and Oxford Magazine. He was born in Akron, Ohio but currently lives in Los Angeles. Find more of his work at jimjakk.com.