“Theodore Roethke Drinks a Pint of Vodka and Talks About Love” by Jackson Holbert

28 October 2016 on Poetry   Tags: ,

I've always enjoyed a song more
when I was alone. The Pacific's mist
fighting the coast.
How you taste it when you cough.

I, who have always asked my bones
what my mind should do,
who trusted my blood
and fought it back.

The wind beats my house raw.
I go out after the storm
and put my face to the clapboard.
I stroke the windows.

I suck on a bit of straw.
I hug the ant-hollowed stump.
I kiss the neighbor’s dog.
This is the only way I know to love the world.


Jackson Holbert is originally from eastern Washington and now lives in Waltham, Massachusetts. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Thrush, The New Orleans Review, Vinyl, The Minnesota Review, and elsewhere.

 Photography by Amy Neswald

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