Jessica Morrris Poems

Sunny days where the still rain falls,
trickling into the tricked morning glories that have open arms up to precipitance we call precipitation.
And it falls, falls.
Condensed cloudbursts hailing a fine rain drizzle,
...

An atom bit the center’s core.
Crux’s fruit germinating a gist of grain.
A marrow, a matter, a morsel of meat.
A nutty, nub-part.
...

Oh you glittering, golden arches
you’re calling, calling my name.
I sit in neutral anticipation,
waiting for my number six with mayo.
...