Jessie Jones




I found you
so dull and sad but
for the times brother assured
my leaping off ladder-tops
or when kittens were born so
we could name them horribly.
Each stunted milestone
like being taught in Russian when I
was clearly a banana.
Time was gambled in increments. One
year I did not grow at all and seven
people independently called
me below-average. All obsessive
naming. All wondrous
small. I was rapt with lying
and thought I would die in you.
I wanted scuba masks
to be cooler. I wanted to muffle
the persistent moan of loneliness.
The age distracted me.
I should have been born
without electricity.
JESSIE JONES currently lives in Victoria, BC and is working on her first manuscript. Her writing has appeared in Prism International, CV2, filling station, and elsewhere.