Potluck

 

T H I S    W E E K

Poems by Jessie Janeshek

 

Intermediately

 

something about this feels important

maybe it is something to do

with the weight hanging from my face

 

in the afterlife

you donate yourself

that was something essential that I grew to

while growing up

 

The chances of finding a match

are 1 in 30,000

it turns out I might be one

even in the great odds

which stand against me

 

something in me

could be somebody’s miracle

some body’s miracle

some bodies, miraculous

 

miles away

they’re testing my blood

while I am in the air

in transit

in the belly of something

much bigger than myself

 

I feel most like a young soul

when I’m in a cloud

I feel most sad

when I can’t feel it

 

 

Leah Clancy writes, and wants to be a writer, but can she call herself that yet? She’s somewhat like a divorcee that has never been married, and is about to trade Brooklyn in for something different.