Jessie Janeshek
Orifice               Overture               Our Horsekeeper’s Daughter
Yvonne saw life through low-knobbed Dutch doors
               could have grown up
a parasoled whore                         dead from cancer.
Pre-shatter, she’s glimpsing      one geisha wig
               one asp                                one                      bombardier jacket.
Loose Jezebel, Zephyr
                                             make do with two scoops
of alkaline                                                                                          dull sewing needles
                                                                one “time is a horserace.”
Even in pieces                                                                  Yvonne can’t forget it.
Musée Poupée
Jezebel and Zephyr prie-dieued on rugs
                                                            trading lace gloves
                              blueberry doilies
and St. Germaine prayer cards embroidered with pearls.
                                             In one illustration
                                                the candleflames lulled
                              the lavender stars               above Germ’s febrile shoulders
                                                                                                         brown hair, cello eyes
                                                                                                                        and a lamb face
                                                                                                         no more than a mother could love.
                              The two bebés catechized berry
                                             as the Battenberg ghosts burned Germaine down and out
                              sprinkled her velveteen ash in the fireplace.
How to Imagine Zephyr in Summer
               Out of the house                                             needing to bleed
French girlette knock-kneed                                                  in striped stockings knocking
               something to prop up                                                the jalousie windows
                                                            (I’ve been writing a lot
                                                            Jezebel mutters
                                                            breaking my blue spells
                                                            draining to yellow
                                                            a hairy woman named Beth
                                                            blonde bubble cut
                                                            big-lipped                            weeps the boat
                                                            steering my fever
Dust’s making everyone               struggle               unsneeze
               as Zephyr swims up from the grave to shout “firefly!”
Not so hard to make such a life
                                             unspeakable cabins                                             everything rose-rot
                                                            (The hirsute nurse warns me, stay safe
                                             but desperate thoughts tentacle
                                                            take the shape of this sickness
                                                                           under the clock…
Chronopoem Contrejour
In this version, Zephyr taxis toward cabaret
icily cramming                                                 the mimes in the rear of the catcar
Tap dancing                              fruit planted                                             one pinky on piano
               Jezebel’s sweating past decadent
                                                                                 treble tropigal threat
Jessie Janeshek's first book of poems is Invisible Mink (Iris Press, 2010). An Assistant Professor of English and Director of Writing Across the Curriculum at Bethany College, she holds a Ph.D. from the University of Tennessee-Knoxville and an M.F.A. from Emerson College. She co-edited the literary anthology Outscape: Writings on Fences and Frontiers (KWG Press, 2008).
previous page     contents     next page
Orifice               Overture               Our Horsekeeper’s Daughter
Yvonne saw life through low-knobbed Dutch doors
               could have grown up
a parasoled whore                         dead from cancer.
Pre-shatter, she’s glimpsing      one geisha wig
               one asp                                one                      bombardier jacket.
Loose Jezebel, Zephyr
                                             make do with two scoops
of alkaline                                                                                          dull sewing needles
                                                                one “time is a horserace.”
Even in pieces                                                                  Yvonne can’t forget it.
Musée Poupée
Jezebel and Zephyr prie-dieued on rugs
                                                            trading lace gloves
                              blueberry doilies
and St. Germaine prayer cards embroidered with pearls.
                                             In one illustration
                                                the candleflames lulled
                              the lavender stars               above Germ’s febrile shoulders
                                                                                                         brown hair, cello eyes
                                                                                                                        and a lamb face
                                                                                                         no more than a mother could love.
                              The two bebés catechized berry
                                             as the Battenberg ghosts burned Germaine down and out
                              sprinkled her velveteen ash in the fireplace.
How to Imagine Zephyr in Summer
               Out of the house                                             needing to bleed
French girlette knock-kneed                                                  in striped stockings knocking
               something to prop up                                                the jalousie windows
                                                            (I’ve been writing a lot
                                                            Jezebel mutters
                                                            breaking my blue spells
                                                            draining to yellow
                                                            a hairy woman named Beth
                                                            blonde bubble cut
                                                            big-lipped                            weeps the boat
                                                            steering my fever
Dust’s making everyone               struggle               unsneeze
               as Zephyr swims up from the grave to shout “firefly!”
Not so hard to make such a life
                                             unspeakable cabins                                             everything rose-rot
                                                            (The hirsute nurse warns me, stay safe
                                             but desperate thoughts tentacle
                                                            take the shape of this sickness
                                                                           under the clock…
Chronopoem Contrejour
In this version, Zephyr taxis toward cabaret
icily cramming                                                 the mimes in the rear of the catcar
Tap dancing                              fruit planted                                             one pinky on piano
               Jezebel’s sweating past decadent
                                                                                 treble tropigal threat
Jessie Janeshek's first book of poems is Invisible Mink (Iris Press, 2010). An Assistant Professor of English and Director of Writing Across the Curriculum at Bethany College, she holds a Ph.D. from the University of Tennessee-Knoxville and an M.F.A. from Emerson College. She co-edited the literary anthology Outscape: Writings on Fences and Frontiers (KWG Press, 2008).