Jessica Lynn Suchon is a poet, essayist, and women's rights advocate. She recently received her MFA from Southern Illinois University where she was recognized by The Academy of American Poets. Jessica was named a 2016 Emerging Writer Fellow by Aspen Words, a partner of The Aspen Institute and was a finalist for the 2017 Indiana Review Prize. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Yemassee, Hermeneutic Chaos, Radar Poetry, Connotation Press, decomP magazinE, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Rust + Moth, and A Shadow Map: An Anthology by Survivors of Sexual Assault, among others.
Hidden inside the trembling
skeleton of winter, behind
the old Budweiser factory
we park and lie
in the backseat. All year
his fists have broken blood
vessels and blackened my eyes
into wreaths of verbena.
But here, he is hushed and still.
On the cusp of spring, rain
raps against the glass
like knucklebones and thunder
cradles us in the palms of its shaking
hands. I bend my knees to the cold
-stripped oak, to the shiver of wind,
say grace for how softly he is
capable of moving. Sometimes
I think there is another life
where no one ruined us. Each
night we hold our breath
as the train screams and groans
and rubs itself raw along the track.
Moons tumble from the passing
windows and dance on the dead
cornstalk stubble. The earth
rumbles in the railchurn.