Thrift Store Sweater
Threads dangle off the sweater
I’ve worn forever, blue
and purple billows all across
my torso. I can’t just throw
away this salvaged dollar
from a Goodwill. A cloth
can sheath itself on the body
and glide forever, walking
toward an inevitable unknown
destination. The distance is empty
space, jammed with ubiquitous
sound. I will sew none of it.
James Croal Jackson is a Filipino-American poet who works in film production. His latest chapbooks are Count Seeds With Me (Ethel Zine & Micro-Press, 2022) and Our Past Leaves (Kelsay Books, 2021). Recent poems are in Stirring, Vilas Avenue, and *82 Review. He edits The Mantle Poetry from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. (jamescroaljackson.com)
Threads dangle off the sweater
I’ve worn forever, blue
and purple billows all across
my torso. I can’t just throw
away this salvaged dollar
from a Goodwill. A cloth
can sheath itself on the body
and glide forever, walking
toward an inevitable unknown
destination. The distance is empty
space, jammed with ubiquitous
sound. I will sew none of it.
James Croal Jackson is a Filipino-American poet who works in film production. His latest chapbooks are Count Seeds With Me (Ethel Zine & Micro-Press, 2022) and Our Past Leaves (Kelsay Books, 2021). Recent poems are in Stirring, Vilas Avenue, and *82 Review. He edits The Mantle Poetry from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. (jamescroaljackson.com)
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