Poetry: Jenny Drai

(from an untitled poem sequence)

next to you so I can hear the laces of fact

:

but also emboldens to the western forest w/other

:

‘you have your battalion & I’ve amassed my own’

:

interrupted & interlaced

:

to cut a green frock from the tree

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flowering dogwood of the prairie, remember

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infamous fields the partitions lights some

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tendency, wake up early, eat eggs

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risen in silence & just do the most magnificent you can

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I hold it myself for a little realm of history

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that’s how it happens, nothing but silt

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not fathoming it, the relapse of distance

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you near me so dears are on yr body

:

a red dish, pears to come home to

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a cavalier who walks against the estuary

*

Jenny Drai has had work appear in Calaveras Court Green, Five Fingers Review, 580 Split, H_NGM_N, RealPoetik, Spinning Jenny and the Tiny, among other journals.  She has worked as a researcher for a historical consultancy, as a social worker, and as a nanny abroad, among other jobs, and currently lives in Southern California (near the ocean) where she spends her free time reading crime fiction and learning the
ins and outs of book arts.