When the Arrow of Love Overshoots the Heart 

Casting my eye upon his face is not pleasant,

the earth does not shake or tremble, stars remain

rooted in their midnight blanket, heart beats

are rhythmic and controlled in my chest. 

as thoughts of Darryl drift in and out of my

busy days, still warm nights without causing

the slightest ripple in the stream of my consciousness, 

not like a salmon that fights against the torrents 

of a storm-tossed river, no, no, it is more

like a minnow drifting mindless from wave

to wave between liquid motions of a timeless Red Sea.

He is not beautiful, so I believe that he is not 

dangerous.  My heart will be safe from his

male ego, the drive to conquer and lift every

skirt that swishes “come hither” on the wind. 

Ornate and passed down from generation

to generation, my mother’s mirror testifies

to my bronzed beauty, I touch the chill 

of its glass with love dripping from

my fingers leaving wet marks trailing.

I think of Darryl and sigh resigned.

In Absentia 

Billows of morning mist

roll in from an awakening sea,

like dark blue ink

from a cracked pen. 

A sharpened pen point. 

My naked skin is damp and slick

as I wander from bush to bush,

brushing unknowing fingertips

against thorns that tear  

It fits nicely inside the hem of my skirt. 

through my flesh,

as lightening rips a stormy sky

in May.  My mind is elastic like

pig guts on a slab of white marble, 

I touch its slimness, it comforts me. 

it guides my footsteps,

onto a tangled path that leads me

to an unfamiliar place, 

It returns to the curve of my hand. 
 
 

confusing visions merge

with you—us memories, perhaps not

memories, but sharp-edged reality veiled

in deep shadows.  Bitter as sour cherries 

I practice my jags until they are perfect. 

your words slam against my cotton candy heart

that tries to resist, push against

knowledge that glows vividly red.

against an azure horizon. 

I thought a pierced heart would collapse.

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Marianne Thomas Jackson is a NEOMFA student anticipating a spring 2009 graduation.  Her interests run the gamut from poetry to prose, to fiction, and even playwriting. She is a grandmother with nine grandchildren, five children, and many years of yearning for a college education.  Her plans after my graduation are to teach Creative Writing and facilitate poetry workshops in the schools and GED learning centers.

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