Backfired

Poetry

By Jocelyn Wilkinson

Backfired
We have some problems
Real life, fucked up, serious ones.

Actually, fucking tons.

Is it our culture?
Is it our government?
Is it our military?
Seriously, what is it?
Because I don’t understand.
My mind is incapable of comprehension
I can find no sense.

The killing, the innocent,
Death doesn’t ruin only the defiled.
Hitting that point,
it ruins society.

Perhaps we encourage it.
Or maybe we just don’t challenge it.
We live, expecting shit to fix itself.

Chain Reaction

Poetry

By Jocelyn Wilkinson

A brush, a swipe, a breath

I feel you against my neck

I can’t find you though.

Where did you go?

Hand flings through the air—I’m growing up to you.

You were just there

But now you’re gone.

Where did you go?

There

    There

        There

I see you but can’t get you

Try catching up, you’re gone.

Where are you going?

Stop

Stop

STOP

Please I said stop

Just slow down so I can catch you

I can feel you—I’m almost big enough for you—just slow down.

Where are you going?

My body is

    B     U     R     S     T     I     N    G

trying to find, meet, understand you

Can’t you see I’m trying?

Why are you going?

Oh there you are…

                             Almost…

I missed you again—bigger, bigger—slipped from my hands.

Why are you going?

You stopped…but…you were going somewhere…

You couldn’t have stopped for me—I shrink, I’m normal.

Why did you stop?

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