by John Doyle
Jennifer was my first girlfriend—
it was 1980—both of us four years old—
a disco-dance floor was made from pebbles
like ancient Mayan puzzles,
lager-cans and smoldered twigs nearby—
evidence of civilization disappeared.
Jennifer was my neighbor,
the one who went missing
days after her breakdown—let home from hospital.
They found Jennifer barely hanging-on
three days later, in the woods. The cold did its thing
like a blade to a lamb's throat.
Jennifer Juniper is played on vinyl
crisp like early-shooting flames
through the forest before the animals are spooked.
The evidence smoldered on several faces
for days, Jennifer's cortege mumbled its suspicions,
my first girlfriend and her second husband said hello—
I smiled. I haven't seen her wearing purple
is from County Kildare in Ireland. He returned to writing poetry in February
2015 after a gap of nearly 7 years. Since then, he's had 6 collections
released, including Leaving Henderson County, in 2020. He is writing his
first novel at present and works as a journalist.
Ann Marie Rhiel
is the Assistant Art Director for Yellow Mama Webzine. She was born
and raised in Bronx, New York, presently living in New Jersey. She reconnected with her
passion for art in 2016 and has had her work exhibited in art galleries around
northern New Jersey ever since. She is a commissioned painting artist, who also
enjoys photography. Her work has also appeared in Black Petals and Megazine