If you bought me a wizard hat,
I would learn magic
–to easily complete these blue pajamas
adorned with white stars, the soft and safe.
In the day we glimmer. At night–
let’s make sleep a spell, a slow
slip into lullaby, a cradle free
from disagreement, a glass of wine
to forget we inhaled the wind.
We almost floated
into the squeeze of dark. In bed
I watch cartoons in my head: Fantasia fireworks. Flames
that frame the bitter sky. Neon daisies in glowing eyes.
I dream hours researching the best tongue
to learn. The world may need a hero to
vanquish evil through fire, or ice, but all I want
is the kind of magic that keeps you warm at night,
far removed from my cold touch. The kind
where we whisper warm enchantments,
recite words that will not conjure ice.
Copyright 2016, James Croal Jackson
James Croal Jackson is a writer, filmmaker, and occasional musician from Akron, Ohio. He lived in Los Angeles for a few years and rediscovered his love for poetry. His work has been recently published in Whale Road Review, Guide to Kulchur, Rust+Moth, and other journals. He currently resides in Columbus, Ohio. You can find more of his work at jimjakk.com