Mark Jackley

Three Poems

Obit

In print
your death convinces.


Already
smaller you


slip out the transom, two
by three column inches.

           *

The Moment

The paper,
the hands that fold it,
the airplane that takes shape

and flight, the arc, the swoop
and whoosh
the disappearance.

          *

Rain

Heaven-sent to perform mouth-to-mouth on flowers, trees,
it belongs to the scientist, the shaman and persimmons.

It careens down windows like a novice skier,
a spooked colt,
like Liana, ten,
running into the years.

Mark Jackley is the author of two chapbooks with a third, “Cracks and Slats,” forthcoming from Amsterdam Press, and a full-length collection, “There Will be Silence While You Wait,” on the way from Plain View Press.