Monday, July 6, 2020

Rude. by James Croal Jackson

Nearing the end of flu
season and I’ve made it
this far unscathed. But

today I ache–
head, a crushed bag
of ice; throat, sore,

a glimpse of Hell.
April coughs all it has
on me– rain, snow, hail,
sleet.

          Spring,
cover your contagious
mouth, please.



James Croal Jackson (he/him/his) is a Filipino-American poet. He has a chapbook, The Frayed Edge of Memory (Writing Knights Press, 2017), and recent poems in DASH, Sampsonia Way, and Jam & Sand. He edits The Mantle (themantlepoetry.com). He works in film production in Pittsburgh, PA. (
jamescroaljackson.com)

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