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Quote by Jill Alexander Essbaum

“Rib I frown because you frustrate me, your wooly, muffled voice, and the dishes that will not do themselves. I have traded word for weary word with you and come up short so many sentences, that I am broke from paying attention. Maybe I have treated you badly. I am sorry if I have treated you badly, but other men have worn me out, and I no longer make love, it will not last. So if I linger at the arcs of your chest, we shall call it mere tenderness, or homecoming. And if I happen to write sonnets in the honor of us, I will not drown you in burdens of marigolds, rather clay, a kiss or two, some serpents looking on. I am near useless here, and if I cross myself, it is only because I am that lost, with nothing left to do for my hands.”

Quote by Jill Alexander Essbaum

Book:Heaven
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Work

Heaven

This book delves into the various interpretations of heaven across different cultures and religions, examining its role in human belief and the search for spiritual fulfillment. more

Author

Jill Alexander Essbaum
Jill Alexander Essbaum

Jill Alexander Essbaum is an American poet born in 1971. Her work is celebrated for its unique style and profound insights into everyday life. more

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“Heaven To live well under this dark shadow, it takes deep breathing and a resolution, for here it is monstrous cold, and the wind has teeth as large as testament. I wrap a sweater around the sleeve of my soul, and night after night, I sit and I stare at pumpkins, at the moon, at roses falling short of themselves. They are thorn and mere bloom, and I no longer know if they are beautiful, just as I no longer know if I am beautiful, and whether I am or I am not, I do not know if it matters, if it ever did. Nevermind. I am still as uncertain, or at least just as chill as this gray sky above, and that one cold hope success, below, and this unsavory room of waning passions in between. I wanted to make music or love, and having the talents for neither, I settled on both. Do you see these scars? They bear the teethmarks of the angels.”

PoetryHeavenPoemJill Alexander Essbaum
Book:Heaven
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“The Coming When apple-birds have drowned themselves in milk, the old bones take it well. They gather smoke to ink the mountainsides with letters of regret. And when the moon burns through its orbit, men take cover in cramped rooms, while all the dead begin to roil within the ground. And as He comes, the night completes itself. The end arrives as if a telegram, in series, inconsolably. And if they wish to suckle the Messiah's breast, it is too late, He's dry. Look to the stars— a trumpet and a train conclude the sky.”

PoetryHeavenPoemJill Alexander Essbaum
Book:Heaven
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