Poems by Mark Jackley

OVERHEARD AT THE CLEANERS

Someone’s cape was ready.
If death is Batman, time
is Robin. Their true power:
not saving lives, but life.

 

TYPING

Woodpeckers would only laugh.

Three fat fingers slowly
hammering
for words.

But I am hungry, too.
These are the
tools I have.

 

A BUSKER PLAYS MAGGIE MAY

its opening
madrigal

spare as a
hillside cross

in morning light
that shows our age,

sound of not
expecting much