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  • James Croal Jackson

The tendril

By James Croal Jackson





Friends seem to love it

but the flowering plant

in the bathroom creeps

me out. There is a half-

empty/full glass of water

on the shelf beside

the dinosaur-cat mug.

I wonder about that,

too. I guess it depends

on how you look at

the world: the stone-

green leaf reaches for

your hand or punches

at your jugular. I want

to say I don’t have

trust issues but

you say you’re taking

a shower and shut

the door, but I know

the steam is watering

the tendrils. These

leaps of light

I can’t provide.



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)