Christy Jones is a Minnesotan poet, singer, actress, and playwright. She recently completed her MFA in Creative Writing from Lindenwood University, and has previously been published in Crux Literary Journal. She loves musical theater, personality assessments, true crime podcasts, and the non-ironic use of a hearty Midwestern accent.
long, languid limbs lull, learn the willow wind-bow, blessed assorted appendages intermix intermittent leeway given, give and taken, back and sulking, soaking, heavy fruit-full nearing grass.
within this womb what gestates but warm justing, nesting, nectar-lapping lazy lips at sugared rims and sun-swung grins, full foolish, filled and flowed and flown and flung hung held between green green and
when all outdoors clarion calls to nostalgia: sacred procession toward sepia. staid oaks spilling bloodsap: wind-pierced peaked drops earthbound
this is life: to color brilliant, to go down
treachery! she shrieks over, over again treachery! as my mind holds me sticks me at swordpoint, makeshift pirate ship shifting on lonesome bays my knees oarlocked my eyes barefoot, nude as mice, without even fuzz to improve them
carousel wind keeps running fingers through this shawl of ice-winged lace; veils me. i hold tight the hidden white sepulchers like eggs in my throat. and none least of all those with binoculars can tell if i am mother or predator i have shoveled suspicions off my driveway three times now but death is here, and here and here lies the hollow-boned skylark too certain of a song unsung