Jules Jacob

Anjezë Bojaxhiu Lends Her Eyes

Mother Teresa led me on a 2 a.m. tour
of the ruins of Aleppo     two children
a grandmother, sitting on a rubble-covered
bed listening to a cranked-up gramophone—

dream-scramble of an AP photo of an old man
fused to his shelled apartment and possessions
to his city’s end or his.

I heard that song I loved, your voice content
with the faith I tried but failed to know
the peace that was meant to be.

A mobile app revealed I use “hope” habitually.

I pretend Mother Teresa watches me crush
lemon thyme and sage     anointing
my temples and crown with selections
from the cosmic vending machine.

I pretend she laughs when I water
with MiracleGro. I forget to call her Saint.

Atropa belladonna

Pain wolfs air
paints you miniature

physicians warn, physicians
prescribe     objections

sway in dead-up night
in sun-skittering shade.


quiet our racing hearts
and trembling limbs

cool angry nerves
snip thread-lives     close

our eyes with pupils
still dilated.

Author Portrait

Julie “Jules” Jacob’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Plume, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Yes Poetry, Rust+Moth, and elsewhere. Her poetry has been paired with artwork and transformed into pictographs at the Colorado Gallery of the Arts and Le Moulin à Nef in France. She’s the author of The Glass Sponge and a resident of the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts Poetry Workshop. Jules advocates for abused and neglected children and is an Emeritus Master Gardener for the University of Missouri.

View the website of Jules Jacob