Holiday Socks
Sitting alone
again, in my apartment,
my reflection in the turned-off
television. The red tips
of my holiday socks
(raptors wearing Santa
hats) are my tie
to family. Someone
once went to Kohl's
in December and in the glue-
hued aisles of purses
and pillows thought
of me enough
to picture how
my feet might
look, covered
in fantastical
cloths.
Pail
I waste the day–
another
in the heap
atop the years
before it.
October sun
through the blue
room’s window
a fly trap
catching what has died
in this temporary
burst.
James Croal Jackson is a Filipino-American poet who works in film production. His latest chapbooks are A God You Believed In (Pinhole Poetry, 2023) and Count Seeds With Me (Ethel Zine & Micro-Press, 2022). Recent poems are in Hello America, Little Patuxent Review, and Ballast Poetry Journal. He edits The Mantle Poetry from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. (jamescroaljackson.com)
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