scott jacobs

sister, dolorem ipsum 

i.

you think about all the white sleeves with red on them
they are harvesting fields of flaw in the room
the man with the cloth cross can bear it
when there is nobody around it is your sister
her bandana in the splintered rafters  over a pile of the cajun south
      & dark belgium chocolate 
you have forgotten about the chandelier & the martini
the dark hunks of olive cinched between your teeth
wiping your feet on your way out 
right as she just gets new again
& you are not a level smile
half the sea sloshes to one side of your cheek
& when you crack open the world bleeds
you have that edible ruin running through you
as bleak as the hammer crashing the head of a nail

ii.

you think about all the white sleeves with red on them
they curve into hooks for carrying the bodies
the woman with the moth arms is morphing 
when the dark is entering it is your sister
her final function is the gravity at the feet of everybody’s faces
      & a complimentary suppression 
you have replaced the chandelier with your memories
the red pits spit out & stuck to the hooves 
wiping away at the only rain in the room
right at the place where you are feeding
& you are a crooked head of teeth
half the ocean is hard inside your belly
& when you break open there is nothing
you have that incredible suction 
as weak as a needle at the heel of the pines
 

My favorite souvenir is still hiding. I think it is in another country, but most likely it is in the pocket I keep forgetting to check. I wear these pants everyday, so I probably won't lose it. It makes me feel safe I have never seen it. 

Scott Jacobs lives in Salem, MA. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in WORD RIOT, Similar:Peaks::, A5Q, jubilat & Incessant Pipe.