Winter, 2006
Janine Gross

because she had never been called beautiful
bourbon girls called her honey
you ought to be selling that honey
she’s selling her honey
in the middle of the room
in the middle of her cycle
in the middle of the night she needs
a little something to lift her spirits

she stood on her toes and swallowed
the moon
full and bright and full of life she’s full
of death full of shit and herself
no man in this moon but a sun in her
eclipse throwing off his layers
because no one had warned her
of the risks before so
she’s looking at him without protection
in the middle of the day
in the middle of her life
in the middle of some important something else

this is her day at the beach
and she no longer touches the bottom
still not sure how deep she’s in
the middle of the ocean
in the middle of his crisis
the middle of his life
surrounded by his reflection in the blue
because she’s never been
this close before he burns right through
her middle
burning her baby
she’s burning his letters
burning her candles
pink skin peeling petals on the floor
scattered for him
and he’s searching the sky
stepping on the sparkles
she’s left behind

 

 

Janine (jj) Goss resides in central Massachusetts. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in publications such as Happy, Branches Quarterly, Amarillo Bay, Lummox, 52%, Copious Lightening Bell, Writer's Monthly, Poetry Superhighway, Unlikely Stories, Red Booth Review, Sometimes City, Seeker, Blindman's Rainbow, and Slow Train. Her short story, "Missing a Beat," was nominated for a 2001 Pushcart Prize.