Jette Blackstone Poems

When I was born
a wraith flew in the window
and sucked out my breath.
As I turned from ash to black
...

Morning scratches at the glass.
and the screen glares back white.
Boiling water recalls the heat of thoughts,
a small bird lands on a branch of sunrise.
...

She mixes words
like a wizard whips out a spell,
better yet, like a chef
whose batter boasts
...

Morning snowflakes clot the air,
rest in the nook of an old fedora.
The shop doors are still locked.
A red sweater.Blue eyes glance
...

What you see when you look:
The moon and the sun
along the same line
when fire and frost
...

I see you inside your eyes
and you've run away.
I see you in a sunset fading
...

I bent down
so I could see my face
upside down
...

I settled into your
cumulous pillow,
dreamt of peacocks
running four corners of a fence
...

Snow fell in a thicket of white,
melted in rivulets along the outside
of a bistro window, framing the image of ‘us.'
I glanced up into whiskey eyes
...

Sometimes pills are like happy dogs.
Swallow them down and they taste like puppy heaven.
Your rear begins to wag, your tongue hangs down
And you suddenly realize that there's nothing better
...