Two Poems by Jennifer Ruth Jackson

 

 

 

After the Climb

We lost ourselves                        among the leaves
falling from great heights            we once knew well
branches smarting our backs       Sounds of rustling
and thwacks against limbs           filled the soft quiet
bruising us like rotted fruit          painted in hues of dusk

 

 

Coming Home

There was no yellow ribbon
Around the old oak tree
Nor was she
Under the apple tree
Waiting for him

 

He came back to silence
Hands still sweaty
From carrying the gun
Devoid of olive branches

 

About the Author

Jennifer Ruth Jackson is an award-winning poet and fiction writer whose work has appeared in Red Earth Review, Banshee, and more.  She runs a blog for disabled and/or neurodivergent writers called The Handy, Uncapped Pen from an apartment she shares with her husband. Follow her on Twitter @jenruthjackson