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i watch papa bury our dog in a grave the size of a pond

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i watch papa bury our dog in a grave the size of a pond

by Raven Jackson

March 12, 2017

mauve, sprigs of oleander—

ceilings shedding water

stains in shapes of crooked
eyes—my jaws lock in mid-sentence

and hands cover your last white
leg with dirt
i name it

a lighthouse: a jar full of salt:
a longitude line undone

summer barely opening her dress
but the shutters singing

Raven Jackson

A native of Tennessee, Raven Jackson is a poet and filmmaker currently attending New York University’s Graduate Film Program. A Cave Canem fellow and a graduate of the New School’s Writing Program, her work has appeared in TriQuarterly, CALYX, Kweli, Phantom Limb, PANK, and elsewhere. Her first chapbook, little violences, is forthcoming from Cutbank Literary Magazine in early 2017. She's currently in production on her fifth short film, Nettles.