The Works of Jackelyn Hoy

Jackelyn Hoy has had work published in Alehouse Press and The Orange Room Review. She currently lives in Chicago where she spends her time reading and writing.

All Poems ¬© Jackelyn Hoy


How beautiful the people
who run from the sudden rain
in the city
to the white canopies
of the downtown market.
The farmers in their hats
the rain falls heavy from the red
awnings of the

They look like gulls landing
with their suit coats over
their heads.
Morning waves on Florida beaches.
Sheets tangled.  

The woman on the corner cries
for bus fare.


You look like a moth
swimming in your dress,
like you have wings around you,
Like you pollinate at night.  

I sit dirty on the shore.
I want to be touched,
on my neck and on the balls of
my shoulders.
Your milky watery hands could touch me there,
like the German in the movie
theatre who held
my necklace (where did you flock to
before lights?)
Would I be rough
like sand
on cattle bones (the moon?)
Bones in countries where people say
things like
The Sun is Low
He'll Come Back.
My Woman is Dead. 

(we wanted to sleep through the movie
but she wanted to talk. 

she told us her husband was a prisoner
of war. 

she told us stories.)