Two Poems by Jacqueline Susmann

Star Splatter

The universe, compact,
on the walls of my dorm room.
The glow stick explosion
had commenced and we were
all splattered, dancing,
drunk off of High Life and
the neon fumes that radiated
off of once white washed walls.

“The Milky way is on your ceiling!”

Covered in each others sweat
we laughed and chugged,
danced and painted.
All seven of us flowed as we floated-
a group of 20-year-old Pollocks lost
in the glowing mists of a medium discovery.

Neon globs in goblets of wine,
pollywogs in a spring pond;
The ceiling dripped sun drops
–liquid star soaked the carpet.

We are the Saturday-Night Explorers,
the Weekend Artists,
The Day-off Martyrs.
We drink to get drunk,
we splatter for justice,
break the rules
only to remind ourselves
we aren’t really free.

The Kraken

So this is the ocean.
Waves like pointed walls
sharp with the unknown,
encompassing the physical
yet home to the mythical.

Vision dimmed,
lack of light,
someone please pull up
the shades, even
The Kraken should see
his world spinning.

Kraken, why do you like
your lair so dark?
Come to the surface,
slip your tentacles through
your liquid ceiling.

For I have never
thought of you
when I was dry
-only when floating,
water too deep to stand,
toes branching for
anything solid, unmoving.

Child of Poseidon,
I know they promised
to spill your ink,
like spiced rum filming
over the salty plateau,
if you revealed
your shiny arms again.

But, if you wish,
take your chances with
one who cannot find
strength to hold a spear,
to rip apart a being
with anything other
than words.

Profile: Jacqueline Susmann

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