June Dusk | Mark Jackley

            bullfrogs fire up

            like tiny 

            motorcyles

hands splayed like Little

Richard, 

Monk,

Beethoven

            slow wet loving muscles,

            a heron flaps—

            gone

Hopper knew

we aren’t alone

when we are alone

old dog blinks,

these days

the moon howls at him

bothisattva oak—

birds 

grasp it

Mark Jackley's poems have appeared in Fifth Wednesday, Natural Bridge, Talking River, and other journals. HIs new book, Many Suns Will Rise, is forthcoming from Main Street Rag. He lives in Purcellville, VA, a nice place to be if you have to be locked down.