3 Rough Drafts from the Archives

I don’t know what to do with these poems; I don’t know if I will ever work on them again so they get to live here. Written in 2010.

Necropolis Streetcar

If she were alive

her name would be Aureate Lion,



On this Saint’s Day

she shines gold,

windows open and flaunting;

she scrawls escapist vulgarity

down the tomb cover tracks.

The masonry cracks against her

and a monument

in the shape of a griffin


wings broken.

Without hesitation she dives

into the tunnel, pounding

the bones of clergymen

as if she could cut away

the gangrene on the hind legs

of the city.


the crow settles

on the branch

of a haiku

and waits for a correct


shucked feathers




dark-eyed junco


lie tangled

in the roots.


parajos bright and

shining fly over

the barbed wire fence

against the storm cloud sky.


Red reads around from the book

of songs and wanders

beyond office walls to the

quiet riverside three counties

away. Blue and Green

can only guess at the joy

of seeing the sunrise

lulled by simple rhymes.

They roll with the stones

on the river bottom.

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Jessica Halsey lives in Arkansas and is working toward earning a degree in Laboratory Science while she writes a horror series about werewolves, an urban fantasy series about fairies, and many strange poems. She loves birdwatching and performing venipuncture. Her house words are, “Is there blood on the floor?”

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