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Jill Rachel Jacobs Poems

Jill Rachel Jacobs is a Pushcart nominated poet whose poetry has been featured in publications around the world.

The Middle of the Night in the Middle of the Bed

It’s always the night
that’s the most jarring,
the most delicate,
the most exposed;
Light from
a vacant street lamp,
pours into an adjacent parking lot,
a barking dog,
a shimmery, shadowy figure,
that’s not really there,
emerge in the crooked hours,
when early morning minutiae,
steals center stage.

Which side shall I take now?
The left,
firm and strong,
where he once laid.
The right,
embedded with an indelible imprint,
permeated by the stale smell
of musky sweat,
hollow laughter,
and lost dreams,
that somehow still prevail.

hypnagogia reigns supreme,
in melancholic dreams,
colliding with the dawn’s first light,
and the realization,
that he is really gone.


First One and Only

I don’t like the rollercoaster.

I never know what to expect.

Also, I don’t trust the people

hired to run the rides.

Instead of screaming in excitement,

I yell in terror, spending most of my time

Wondering where the ride operators got

their training, or even worse,

if they received any training at all.

I like the merry-go-round;

with the flying, faux colorful horses,



in an ethereal,

equestrian ballet,

and the corny circus music,

playing on an interminable musical loop.

And if I fall, I probably won’t get hurt,

since it’s not too far to the ground.

I don’t want to fall again,

But if I do,

would you catch me this time?

Will you take me somewhere

I’ve never been,

At least not since I was last with you?

Or take me to that place

that only we know;

Timeless, ageless,


Where we are old,

and we are new,

and we are wise,

and just born.

Drifting endlessly,

in aqua-blue Aegean seas,

There are no sad stories today.

And the only thing I hear

besides the sound of trickling,

melodious water,

Is a voice that feels like home.

My first, my last,

my love,

has brought me here again.

Melding into the ocean,

I hear you calling my name.

Without your voice,

I’m stuck on the roller-coaster.

It’s terrifying.


Hydra and the Jellyfish

Surrendering deep into your eyes,

But you are not there.

Tethered to unseen images,


cloudy and obscure,

emerge in a darkroom far from here.


Will we meet again?”

He asks once more,

On this earthly place,

Full of new moons, hot licks.


Permeated by a disquieting indignation,

She sees him as he is today;

Making his daily trek

toward comfortable oblivion,

Down the winding, snaky road,

The path that nearly took him away for good,

though he’s still light years from her.


Ticking and tocking,

his mind wanders,

as he wonders,

What color are her eyes?”

Though his words quickly vanish

into a speck of dust of yesteryear;

long before time turned itself around again.


Enveloped by Hydra’s aqua warm waters,

blissfully unaware of Cronos’ suffocating tentacles,

A wiser man would have taken cover,

at the sight of the morning’s first light,

as it teased and taunted

upon the window shade.

But these days are much clearer.

Not like yesterday,

when drowning in murky,

fathomless oceans,

stung by Medusa’s fatal blow,

she just resigned.

Now you are everywhere;

In taxis,

reflections of store windows,

in crocuses and ice storms,

and children’s eyes,

innocent and clear.

I see your eyes, everywhere.

Haunting me.


Jill Rachel Jacobs is a Pushcart nominated poet whose poetry has been featured in The Tower Journal, Varnish Journal, Lost Coast Review, Ygdrasil: A Journal of The Poetic Arts, The Screech Owl. Ms. Jacobs publishing credits include The New York Times, Reuters, The Boston Globe, The San Francisco Chronicle, The Huffington Post, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Newsday, The Independent.


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