the balloons inside
float in swarms
of blackbirds straight
toward a helium moon.
oh to sink my living
teeth into that tethered
object and gnaw it
from orbit. to be so
antigravity I antiquate
everything new at its
source of radiant
blooming. orange-
petaled I read in verse
as a kid, grew restless
in sleep. I fear I may
become the astronaut
that plucks the nearest
star. another apple
from the garden.
James Croal Jackson is a Filipino-American poet who works in film production. His latest chapbooks are A God You Believed In (Pinhole Poetry, 2023) and Count Seeds With Me (Ethel Zine & Micro-Press, 2022). Recent poems are in Hello America, Little Patuxent Review, and Ballast Poetry Journal. He edits The Mantle Poetry from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. (jamescroaljackson.com)