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Wednesday, March 28, 2007 05:11 am

People's Poetry

Jacqueline Jackson Presents'

Untitled Document aroundthecosmospoem #5   
do you know an asteroid will
come so close to earth some
forty years from now that there’s
collision concern bloggers are
recommending ways to avert
this catastrophe so we won’t all
go the way of the dinosaurs some
recommend places for impact
one writes “if it comes to it we
can just send up a great shield
of recycled newspapers paper
beats rock you see I just hope  
they don’t have scissors” I wish
I’d written that are there copyright
laws on blog remarks when it
comes to stealing I’m shameless

© Jacqueline Jackson 2007

The man I love has a crooked finger. He had promised the woman he was married to that he would never lay a hand on any of her children, so when she and her daughter raged at each other and the teenager threatened to charge at her mother with a knife, Leon punched his hand through a wall. He got their attention. The girl dropped the knife. His wife has long since died of conditions not related to her children. The now-grown stepdaughter, paroled from prison, calls him sometimes. He doesn’t answer. These days he looks at his finger and I    wonder what really goes through his mind. “It would have healed right,” he says, “but my wife sat on it in bed.”
I haven’t given him any scars. I wonder whether that means he loved her more than he does me. Can the quiet comfort of mature love compare to the desperate passion of the wildly inappropriate relationships of our youth? Teresa Holton, in the following poem, has learned that love is something greater than passion. — Carol Manley, guest editor
my finger the one I broke twenty-five years ago punching the fridge still hurts when I write a lot the knuckle joint of my right pinkie a boxer’s break they called it at the emergency room the ache when I write a lot just a reminder of who I used to be and how I used to feel so in love and so tired of struggling to prove it to someone who couldn’t believe me

Teresa Holton is a farmer’s wife, a mother, and a teacher. Sheis working on her master’s degree in creative writing at the University of Illinois at Springfield.
Send submissions to Jacqueline Jackson Presents People’s Poetry to poetry@illinoistimes.com or to Illinois Times, P.O. Box 5256, Springfield, IL 62705.
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