by Edward Lee
Bibliophile
Once I held the heart of a paper man
crumpled like dreams in my palm.
Corrective ink glazed four fingers
as they brushed fluttering ventricles,
each feeble beat a rustle of pages
near the end of a book.
Speech bubbles on graphic display,
holes punched in him clear to the spine.
Reshelf or recycle his feelings gone
to pulp? I can’t read him, anymore.
Our romance, rebranded a murder
mystery, teems with rust-hued herring.
Jennifer Ruth Jackson is an award-winning poet and fiction writer whose work has appeared in Red Earth Review, Banshee, and more. She runs a blog for disabled and neurodivergent creatives called The Handy, Uncapped Pen from an apartment she shares with her husband. Follow her on Twitter @jenruthjackson.
Edward Lee is an artist and writer from Ireland. His paintings and photography have been exhibited widely, while his poetry, short stories, non-fiction have been published in magazines in Ireland, England and America, including The Stinging Fly, Skylight 47, Acumen and Smiths Knoll. He is currently working on two photography collections: Lying Down With The Dead and There Is A Beauty In Broken Things. He also makes musical noise under the names Ayahuasca Collective, Lewis Milne, Orson Carroll, Blinded Architect, Lego Figures Fighting, and Pale Blond Boy. His blog/website can be found at https://edwardmlee.wordpress.com