Reliable as a courier pigeon, I did my job: i.e. I bought things. I lurched into the theater dressed in my fatigues to cry before the Jesuses. I listened to far off disco planets, crooned to the carpet, carried my satchel. But my religious conversion was the God-given equivalent of wax paper. Nothing ever stuck. So I’m running from the government down tilt and tumble alleys looking for a place to stow my snow globe collection.
Jennifer Metsker teaches writing at the Stamps School of Art and Design. Her poetry has been published in Beloit, Birdfeast, Gulf Coast, Hobart, and other journals. Her audio poetry is featured on the BBC Radio’s Short Cuts, and she has and essay coming out in the anthology The Shell Game.