by Jessica Gigot
extinct
What if I told you I’m not good at goodbyes,
see ya laters and until next times? I prefer
silent and final departures like the smooth handfish,
the spined dwarfed mantis. I am the saltmarked note—
folded gently in half, placed discretely by the bowl
of fruit. I remember sitting in your parents’ living room
after Thanksgiving dinner, watching you doze
off next to your father and thinking
this was my only future. Take care, so long.
Leaving is easy, remembering brings ache--
the sultry mirage of July and John Prine songs,
leopard lilies, penstemons, and pussy paws.
let us melt, and make no noise
Let me never forget why I left.
Featuring a line from John Donne’s A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning
Listen to “extinct” here
What if I told you I’m not good at goodbyes,
see ya laters and until next times? I prefer
silent and final departures like the smooth handfish,
the spined dwarfed mantis. I am the saltmarked note—
folded gently in half, placed discretely by the bowl
of fruit. I remember sitting in your parents’ living room
after Thanksgiving dinner, watching you doze
off next to your father and thinking
this was my only future. Take care, so long.
Leaving is easy, remembering brings ache--
the sultry mirage of July and John Prine songs,
leopard lilies, penstemons, and pussy paws.
let us melt, and make no noise
Let me never forget why I left.
Featuring a line from John Donne’s A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning
Listen to “extinct” here
regret
“Will you be this grumpy all year?”
He frowns, swivels his chair
back to the din of baseball
bats and mitts and claps.
That was probably the wrong
question, my usual
bull-in-a-china shop
response to these kinds of things.
In sickness, I vowed.
In bed, we lay in silence
listening to the greeting hoots
of two great horned owls
atop the fir trees. September still
smells like summer, but we say
goodnight without even
a simple kiss.
Listen to "regret" here
Jessica Gigot is a poet, farmer, and writing coach. Her second book of poems, Feeding Hour (Wandering Aengus Press, 2020), won a Nautilus Award and was a finalist for the 2021 Washington State Book Award. Jessica’s writing and reviews appear in several publications such as The New York Times, The Seattle Times, Orion, and Poetry Northwest and she is currently a poetry editor for The Hopper and a 2022 Jack Straw Writer. Her memoir, A Little Bit of Land, will be published by Oregon State University Press in August 2022.