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Three Poems
by Danielle Jackson

Midnight models

He waited
watching hookers stagger, high, and unclean.
Some teenage girls fashioned heroin chic.
Starlight hitting the pavement,
Their heels hit the damp,
Washing toes painted red,
And they walk to cars,
Sexy confident,
Like the street was their catwalk.


I see

your neck sinking into shoulders,
green eyes squeezing firmly shut,
You breathe in all the dust around you.
I'm tactless with my approach
Screaming a verbal mouth disorder,
Slipping in an out of your apologies.
We have settled with this ending.
There is too much dirt between us.


My body is wrecked because
his moods are elevator moving.

He cracks my frame
Only to be yanked back up again.

I wish his finger would turn blue and numb,
Perhaps fall off,

So I can't sleep in bloody peace.

About the author:
I have been published in issues of
all things girl, Horace Magazines, Sheffield Star, Gothic Fairy tales ezine, origami condom, the delinquent, the Argotist online.

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Midnight Picnic
a novel by
Nick Antosca


The Suburban Swindle

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