Poetry by Jessica Morey-Collins

“It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid.”

 

 

MAD GIRL BLOWS THE VERY MALE SUN

 

Bloomed moon-thrasher, I’ve been having my way
with your soils for so long that you’ve forgotten me

say it sweeter though        [& you, the sun, say: boom!]

Your frailties, your trail of photosynthetic scorch
& all your heralding—of course I noticed, you left

me no choice but to bare my rocks and fling back
some photons. Cold of me, the light-years you have

left trail drooly
from my lip-corner.            Mankind will gasp
                                                out of existence long
                                                before your throbbing red
                                                ventures the eight minutes
                                                twenty seconds close enough
                                                to lick our sea-trenches
                                                into steam.

[& you, the sun, say: you’re MAKING me

                        hard!!!]                         UP

                                                            come

flood-waters. & all this melt makes you
want to rail me. Your helium quivers

and I lick your leaftips,
distant appendages. I lay,

mouth open & wait for you to radiate
into it. I devote whole centuries.

 

 

“HEY SCULLY, IS THIS DISPLAY OF BOYISH AGILITY TURNING YOU ON AT ALL?”

 

It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that
you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid.
It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that
you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid.

Perched in the tree crotch he
was in the tree & the tree kept
growing. It’s okay that you are

afraid. It’s okay that you are
afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s
okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that you
are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid. It’s okay that you are afraid.

It’s okay

 

 

 

RELAX, AND THAT’S AN ORDER

 

He smacks his subordinate a hard, jovial smack on her back & silk flowers fling from her
pupils & skitter across the laminate desktop spread before her he smacks her & he smacks
her jovially on the very appropriate flat of her shoulder blade & silk flowers shove out from
the seam of her teeth with her gums & blue silk & pink & purple & red peek between tooth
& tissue until plastic pistil & stamen, too, pooch from between her lips & fabric petals spill

all across the laminate table & her office is suddenly as muggy as an interrogation with a fan
slogging the air & a Fox Mulder sturdy behind her & the petals snowglobed all around all in
the flash of the jovial back-smack her desk—which is grand & plastic-matted & littered all

over with post-it notes and keyboard-clacking—her desk it clangs for a second, sudden with
the metal-cold of investigation-in-progress & suddenly an overhead light swings, throws
shadows off all the petals that flung from her face & in that moment she knows she better
get                                            her                                             feelings                                             straig

 

 

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