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Ever Jones

Bio: Ever Jones (they/them) is a queer / trans writer and artist based in Tacoma, Washington. Author of 2 poetry collections: nightsong (Sundress Publications) and Wilderness Lessons (futurecycle press), their work seeks to collapse binaries in rigid systems of social identity. Their work has been published by POETRY, Tupelo Quarterly, Poetry Northwest and many other journals, and they have been a Professor of Creative Writing at the University of Tacoma for over ten years. Check out some art and writing at everjones.com

Sacred Knot

i tried looping one end around the rope’s center
but lost your ghost in the eye. i tried a heart loop
until your body had no more breath to squeeze.
i called this love, or the knot around a wilderness
never meant to be kept. should we learn to lie
together our whole lives we will still be separate
weavers, should we learn to survive we will
practice to stay alive in the veins of our own knots.

Triage

the crow flinging flecks of the robin’s eggstarted this poem. i could see its beak dipped
in the golden center one day away from becoming a body.
its neck was wild in the fervor to devourthe rich protein that originates life.
but then my kitten flicked a green-backed beetlefrom the window and pawed it like a dust bunny.
the beetle’s situation was imperceptible to my senses, but its stillness during her unstoppable pursuit
moved me until i heard a squeal from the backyard. 3 semi-feral cats surrounded a baby bunny
and ours had it in his teeth, slender legs dangling,pitiful whine that could only say save me
though no one who speaks bunny was around. so we chased the cat with a steel rake, scooped the rabbit into Tupperware.
it probably was killed later anyway, but we didn’t hear it. then we saw the stump of a bloody hawk in the ditch
but didn’t know how to sweep the flies from its eyes. we took home a nice feather anyway
until we noticed the invasive ivy vine stranglingthe irises trying to have their spring. so we pulled it away
like a heavy gauze, or a mask holding back a virusuntil the blackberry thorns pierced our arms on their way
to overcoming the entire yard. in the endwe didn’t know who to save first so we sat on the couch
finishing glasses of milk before they expired. a lumpof pungent culture circulated our mouths
with weapons of invasion and death. our only defense: to spit.

Earthcurved

earthcurvedeverything underwater
unfolded stratus a bird lethargy
what is it to be betweenhere and the moon
no more than a blinkor the forgotten belfryafter a war without wind
sundrizzle, thencompass ablazebeyond ember
the ocean moonbeama golden knot in the elk’s mouth
we are here to ring it

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