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jac jemc
My general philosophy is always to outdo myself.
In cases of gimmicks & whiskey, I never failed.
Rubin came back from the facilities, asking for his wallet.
We roared.
***
It began as a jest,
a burlesque,
a gesture,
a posture.
In short, we knew what we were doing.
***
Cringing & slumping,
smashing up against each other:
what isn’t,
what is.
A door
barreling through its frame.
The thicker moments:
a pounding saloon.
***
“You’re nuts,” I call out.
“Some of us go one way & some the other.
You, however, have reached a tunnel speed.
We’ll be back here rolling our tongues around the floor.”
***
A demented light came on
&
all at once he saw something.
“Don’t you worry. You’ll get yours.”
***
He advised me on how to escape a chase:
“If you break a bone,
if you cut a femur,
if the distance between where the ball & socket meet becomes further:
it’s a turn of events.
The pursuers never see the quarry.”
***
And thus it was:
he & I had worn out our waistcoats.
The monsters were closing in,
so we climbed into a waiting car.
It took only a breath to recover.
***
The convict stole
because all his life he’d been reminded:
Your hands are all wrong.
Your hands are all wrong.
***
I deny that I’ve skipped parts.
PAGE 12
LA PETITE ZINE 24 · EMOTIONAL RESCUE
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Jac Jemc sells books in Chicago. Her first novel, MY ONLY WIFE, is forthcoming from Dzanc Books in 2012. She is the poetry editor for decomP and a fiction reader for Our Stories. She blogs her rejections at jacjemc.wordpress.com. |
