Strawberry Moon Confessional

I’m driving down to Cassadaga to talk to the dead.
I’m sitting cross-legged on a front porch.
I’m toppling crayfish chimneys with my big toe.

I’m slathered in oil and frying by the pool.
I’m crying over the color blue.
I’m watching The Virgin Suicides.

I’m getting drunk and writing
“if god isn’t real why do we all feel that way about iris by the goog goo dolls”
in my notes app.

I’m molting like a crab.
I’m eating the batteries in my vibrator.
I’m confronting governmental rage.

I’m trying not to starve my body.
I’m planting a lime tree.
I’m watching the moon burn.

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Jordan Gakle graduated from Central Michigan University’s English program and currently works in admissions at the Art Academy of Cincinnati. Her work has been previously published in “Dark River Review,” “The Blue Route,” and “Circle Show.” She spends most of her time traveling or in her sun-soaked apartment with her best friend and their two black cats, Ducky and Soup.