Two Poems by Jessica Comola


It Is, Indeed, Reminiscent of the Real Thing

Higher in whole armor I come.
And soon he’ll get his updo and soon my metallsucher will have his magnets.
A benefice a bob a brig of ingrown pruned roses, the place a tiny statue with its tiny mewing mouths in Christana in a hangover in a state of skogar loneliness.
I’ve consumed too much comfort.
Lest he turn from me, lest he turn and say darling,
       thy name is entered herein, magnified and extended upon us.
500,000 magnetic particles begin to make up my face. Each part of my face pushes away its sistering parts depending on the radius of the parts, depending on their magnetic pushme, depending on if sisters are things that are spelled similarly.
Lo, how I look being cleaned and fumigated therewithin.

I Am Known At Present for My Extreme Life Expectancy

: of the Gladsome, O Gladdening Light! Arbeitsspeicher, remember the matter “breastmilk,” remember borg brahma and its polyp opgeblazen. Phos Hilaron.
I am of a big thing now, I’m come cheap as a pretty comic.
Murchies line the Wundrshoot lighting their bioluminne kitties, must get kitty’s vaccination records.
A soft one nestles in my kraus with its oilled pfaltzgraff, its multiple scabie joints, picks the brass mighties from my lugs.
Dark toys such as: her lipstains all over the window.
Ancient weaponry for rent. Mites in the kennels.
The immediate above material has the markings of das fingerspitzen, stroboscope, senses alsof, alsof my kitty as a succession of recursive pentagonal shapes.
Kleurplaat for baby, cheap colors calm as colors calm.
The above material chants what it has been explicitly specified to chant and carries out its radium fingers. A body carries out into a hole.
Comola_1Jessica Comola is the author of the chapbook What Kind of Howly Divine (Horseless Press, 2014). Previous poems have appeared in Anti-, Everyday Genius, Painted Bride Quarterly, Eratio, The Journal, and Eccolinguistics.

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