Megan Jones
Two Poems
I.
notice how the window holds. up the room and all begins with chairs underneath and a question of placement spaces lean and collapse onto the swinging bonechambers and the insides crashing out crashing through the membrane.
II.
a window must be properly aimed to see through the beginnings of form falling below filling that shape that shape exactly and nothing between the distance not discerned.
III.
care with which a window is opened solemnly depends on limits restraining self and sawblading world boneshift opening the distance of departure coating thickly coating the sill the edge that blurs. yet the window still holds.
there is,
there is another
again
a tendency towards
retraction and some time
there is
restraint
restraining the
formation of certainty
of summaries
sometime
there is
breath
Megan Jones lives in Oregon. She will soon be moving from the ’burbs to the country, and hopes to split time equally between reading, writing, shoveling horse manure, and playing with her pot-bellied pig and Rottweiler. Her poetry has appeared in Diner, Epicenter, Bryant Literary Review, and Northwest Edge III: The End of Reality.