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  • Writer's pictureJessica Lee McMillan

Poetry by Jessica Lee McMillan

Image by Prettysleepy from Pixabay

On a shelf of volumes bound to me, binding, I extend the vertebrae, the body, a gathering of sewn leaves, limbs of multiple endings, luminous spines in column palette  — stacked either way, verticals to heaven —  tattooed with lofty cursive, worlds folded under covers ready for open palms Under my jacket I spill anatomy, my vellum skin, organ of written word and backbone stacked in raised bands, up to my ink-cartridge head, tongue inscribes paper scars On porous pulp, under nose musk vanilla scent, under fingertip, text densifies, nerve ends to cellulose walls,  — acid-pregnant and fading bones on shelf, hinges split under inherent constituents —  tactile script imprints fingers in archeology of touch In fullness and fall of leaves we harbour the word in the cycle of autumns in demise and rebirth of book, the body ever writes, is written


Jessica Lee McMillan © 2021, Published in Goat's Milk Magazine, September 2021.


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