29 March 2006 | Vol. 6, No. 1
Murmurs of this city split,
From churches, the sweet shiver
Spasms of light drape quickly
the dark bodies of the skyline.
It would be much simpler
to sleep with a composition of wheat.
Near dreaming horses.
Not beside this broken black bowl
that we pour our fixed madness,
the hot glass into.
Let's move into a small chapel,
lonely and sane as a hollow nest.
About the author:
Jenny Gillespie lives in Chicago. She has an MA in English and Creative Writing from the University of Texas at Austin, where she won the Keene Award in Poetry. She is also a singer-songwriter; her music can be heard at jennygillespiemusic.com.