Jessica L. Davis

Haiku and Shorter Poems...

sun loses height
into black hungry arms
her east darkens

cold kisses
through tempered glass
the moon visits

Four in the morning
rabbit in the window well--
who rescues whom

a spring serenade
complete in his arrival -
red-winged blackbird

when it is enough
to be held by blue perfection
Michigan's moon

Morning Blush

sun spokes
through pines’ lashes
kiss her eyelids
and color each cheek

again

not bodies together
but words
a gateway to closer
exchanged for touch

again

after deveining each leaf
holding each stone
in our mouths
we missed something

again

grit left after spitting
pine needles in my hair
an extra note
caught in the warbler's chest

and yet again

Missing Tulum

I miss sleeping in front of the sea
and waking to sensuous rhythms
forgetting what it is to need

I miss raising my body towards the sun
in float and carefree drift
pretending that this is all that there ever was

I miss the freshness of the earth
in each dinner plate and the wine that slipped
so easily past the tongue

I miss the bath big enough for two and
the jasmine oils it left on our skin
before entanglement of perfectly pressed sheets

And I miss how my sleeping shirt still smells
of the sea, of the sun-kissed heat
and oh those undulating, tidal nights

blue

your lilt slows the sunset
and falling asleep with my
fingertips on your shoulder –
what's that like?

I don't love in degrees
you can have it all
or donate it to
the sky's graveyard full of dead light

do you remember Capri?
the grotto remains my favorite color -
that's probably all that really matters
anymore

Selfie

black bra strap
cutting the curved glacier

cinnamon tresses falling
waiting for fingers

sunlight's shoulder
softly softly

What Isn't Mine

my hand
separating pages
into holy moments

my bosom
the waiting cradle
of what he meant to say

my exhale
the collusion
in letting go