I wanted to be dazzling,

like Venus in the late June sky,

glittering gold in the evening,

named after beauty personified—

and now I am twenty-five

and all the things in the poems make sense

and all the songs too

and everyone just gets better and better

at lying

including myself,

so good, I don’t even know

when I am telling the truth


© Alexandra Jema

lunch notes

Debating what to do with my sandwich—I ate half but I wish you were here to eat the other half. Listening to the birds chirping outside, their tiny voices echoing in the crevices of the building. I am waiting and counting the minutes until I can see you again. I count them almost all the time if I know I’ll be in your arms later.

© Alexandra Jema


I feel my absence in the pause of your sentence. When I was dead for a year, I had the chance to think
… think?
I had the chance to
be without you…

I feel my absence in the jokes I don’t get. (I laugh anyway.)

Your sly answers, the smoothness of your lips

I can’t forget either—I tried

But I couldn’t
Because somehow my soul came back
And I think yours did too
Yours a bit red and mine kind of blue
and now everything is.

© Alexandra Jema