Introducing the Poetry of Jessica Lovett

STRING OF LIGHTS  
 
Our hands go like this 
they go up 
I’m so proud of us 
 
all of this us, 
 
and the things that kept falling out, 
the sharp hooks 
of twisted girls’ mouths 
are lights on a string 
 
they’re just lights on a string. 
 
I guess it’s probably spring 
but I’d find that out at your house 
 
look at you, with all your time   
 
 
SEEING THINGS FOR WHAT THEY ARE 
 
On the edge of a bench 
the sun mutters a breeze 
look at the trees; look at guy in red hat and capris 
my body’s a cylinder placed on top of a moving submarine, this you’re better to believe 
performative pigeons and their soliloquies 
you could have me, here, 
in a lot more ways than one 
I could find you here,  
in the breeze muttered by the sun 
 
—to belong to everything all at once 
oh, magic 
a girl like symmetry 
girl like syrup over ice, licking icing off of me 
         or 
eating something better next to me 
 
at least I’m free, 
a crumb of wonder, 
check me under, 
curl up your tongue at all my leaves my weeds my cracked 
                                                 crawled 
                                                 herd of bees— 
 
Dad was this sad too once 
 
I can tell from how he sleeps. 
 
 
A DANCER & THE SEA 
 
I ask her to make me four, she laughs singing, dancers make one dancers make one 
well then I’ll have one 
and it’s the one then it’s done 
but it’s a beautiful one, this one that’s been done  
for me  
above  
         the sea 
         rocking back and forth, 
         mist foam breathe  
         meaning of life is to give it to me 
just  
once  
 
 
CONTROL 
 
If you knew what I was trying to say I'd be over at your place 
lights on dim, if I could choose  
wedding white walls no plastic no paint 
in the hall 
in the half-way 
I'm like a patient 
 
you’re my Medway 
Human Death and Decay 
just something to ease the pain 
parking lots might do the same 
 
 
THERAPY 
 
Show us the places you let yourself go when you get mean 
 
your hands on your eyes, you might be right, 
       but show us anyway how thick that part of you bleeds, 
creeps in like water faucet tentacles 
collecting all of you 
 
tensing your jaw, now, good, open, let it in, breathe 

***

Jessica Lovett is a junior at Fordham University studying Comparative Literature and French. Her poetry has been published in ANGLES Literary Magazine, Maximum Tilt Anthology, and Fordham’s Bricolage. When she’s not writing poetry, you can find her writing music, watching movies, and reading. This is her first feature on the Fictional Café.