By James Croal Jackson
What, you wanna rule oceans of plastic? This
life is life, I guess, gray loam wind swirling,
birds screaming endlessly through the A.M.
Hospitals are rampant with invisible
invasion, and our houses are out of style
(A trip to the woods. Leaving the house
for leaves). Someday soon there will only be
the desolate smell of earth. And in your heaps
of junk we once had family. We crushed Coca-
Cola cans to hear a tin melody. We called
for feedback from the stars.
The echo is heavy.

James Croal Jackson is a Filipino-American poet working in film production. His latest chapbook is A God You Believed In (Pinhole Poetry, 2023). Recent poems are in ITERANT, Stirring, and The Indianapolis Review. He edits The Mantle Poetry from Nashville, Tennessee. (jamescroaljackson.com)

