Death Is Not Real Until You View the Body
Even then, horror films teach us
to anticipate limbs rising from
coffin, wails from a mouth who
once had all teeth extracted
on a routine dentist visit.
If you never see the body,
death never happened.
My brother, who did not learn
to swim, sailed with the Coast
Guard. After that he never left
Ohio again. He is confined
somewhere, beyond some wall,
as far from me now
as he was before.
James Croal Jackson (he/him) is a Filipino-American poet working in film production. He has two chapbooks, Our Past Leaves (Kelsay Books, 2021) and The Frayed Edge of Memory (Writing Knights Press, 2017). He edits The Mantle Poetry from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. (jamescroaljackson.com)
