Scott Jessop

The Empty House Cold clouds turn green leaves blackGhosts move between the walls Haunting the hallways of the old houseMy stomach hurts Going to the kitchenSmells of ginger and cinnamon Cigarettes and coffeeTime blows my eyes shut My throat swallows the bitternessHer yellow skin, frail bones The lists of regrets andPictures on the walls dusted often Practical advice mixed with GodI don’t recall her arms Icy rain and wet snow embraceThe musty whiff of Number Five She was apricity in the waning NovemberWith the dignity of Nitzevet’s love She was my gnomonHow that woman could cook! The specter visits me still on dark daysAs I hear the quivering rasp in my throat Taste delight and injury passing likeSnickerdoodles and scrapple I approach her years and wantTo eat fried chicken And talk about natural graceAs death surrounds me But I kissed her cheek good-byeRead Dickinson over her As the rain froze to my new black suitThat wistful sky and deep, black earth Hold me when I’m lostOn days when I see her In my mirror Scott Jessop lives in the 135-year old, haunted Midland Railroad station in Manitou Springs, Colorado with his daughter, Kathleen and his cat, Jack Kerouac. He is a corporate video and TV commercial producer, poet, spoken word performer, and Pushcart Prize nominee for Penduline Press for his short story, Mephisto. He's had poems published in the Red Earth Review and New Verse Review among others.