J.L. Nash Poems

Featherhead
Don’t call me that
...

Two uncloaked heads
In a sea of a thousand and one hijabs
...

Let there be none until we are dead
Let it wait until jackals scream
...

Slow silent moments of longing
hang next to where I sit
...

Sunday

Monday
Tuesday
...

monkey gone five days food in fridge
monkey go boat lovely island lap lap waves
...

darling this
position
...

Although she understood what it meant to be him
She saw earlier than he did what it was to lose everything
...

not sure why it is but it is
always after
that I feel
I taste
...

And so you call me
now that I have given in to your
protestations, of poetry
you ring me at 2 in the morning
...