Jennifer Hollie Bowles lives in the South-Eastern United States, where she hears trains at mid-evening, plays guitar with the ghost of her father, and writes to prolong breathing. She is the editor-in-chief of The Medulla Review, a venue that caters to surreal and experimental writing.
Jennifer recently had a short e-chapbook, “Every Moment, Breakdown,” published with Gold Wake Press, and as of May, 2010, her poetry and prose has been accepted for publication in over thirty literary journals, including The New York Quarterly, Echo Ink Review, Pirene’s Founatin, The Toronto Quarterly, and Mobius: The Journal of Social Change.
Jennifer is like baklava—composed of fragile layers, held together by sweetness, yet all together very firm.
He endures tsunamis and resists
the sirens of a blue-green sea to
save me from Andromeda’s chains.
He illuminates history and wine-
eyed elation as my mastic tears fall
golden into the palms of his hands,
as his mass of black hair joins my
basin like the roots of ilex trees.
He places grapes upon my navel,
spreading open my oleander-filled
islands until I become empire,
and he becomes Hittite.
He plants an ancient seed
into my Mediterranean,
bringing olive oil and dreams
with dark Dionysian eyes.
Poetry in this post: © Jennifer Hollie Bowles
Published with the permission of Jennifer Hollie Bowles