December, 2020

I don’t have a new perspective.
Snow thaws on sidewalk beside
uncollected garbage. Half the city

workers are in quarantine yet
there are boxes to be shipped
for Christmas or our mothers’

birthdays. I drove on dew
streets to buy you bagels –
but stopped at the sight of

a long line to retreat into
the O of your arms in my
mind. Please park

your car next to mine.
We will sit in our usual
distance and wait for spring.

James Croal Jackson (he/him) is a Filipino-American poet who works in film production. He has two chapbooks, Our Past Leaves (Kelsay Books, 2021) and The Frayed Edge of Memory (Writing Knights Press, 2017). He edits The Mantle Poetry from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. jamescroaljackson.com