Poetry by Jennifer Sage Holmes


Behind palace walls
family killing family
un-knowingly devouring
special dishes of herbs
flesh and blood.
Chained to wheels
she was always only
what she ever was
not a candy-eater
but a notebook lover.
No one believes
what she says.
A purple path before her
repeating 5428, 5428.
No one listens
when she speaks of flames.
A house suspended over emptiness
stairs leading to the heavens
filled with un-answering gods.
Visions of run away cars
with tiny bodies drifting into traffic
she breaks horsehairs
over shrieking strings.
She is a princess
kissed by serpents.
As a baby in her crib
at last freed
and sleeping
she removes the veil of green
and walks
head held high
through the castle gate.


She crawled into
her hideout
warming uncooked pasta
over the bare light bulb.
Convincing herself
she was safe
she tried to be
a trooper.
Doing as she was told
not complaining
not wanting very much
being helpful
being good.
She was so little
but compared to
the others
she was almost
a grown-up.
Slushy school bus steps
that almost made her fall
it took a lot of hope
to stretch so far.
Why was she quiet
instead of crying out.
It’s remarkable
what smiles mask
what secrets
regular baths can hide.


Hearing only the crunching
of dirt under his feet
he could feel what
he wanted.
She was walking right
behind him.
Her breath warming
the back of his neck.  But
doubt was
screeching in
his ears.
He had to see her
with his eyes.
She watched
the back of his head
as the smell of cherry blossoms
filled her mouth.
Keep stepping.
I’m here.
This is true.
Let this be real.
He faltered.
She gasped.
Time stopped as
his head turned
revealing each perfect
facet of his weakness.
Slipping away
she caught
his eyes
A memory of her
on his tongue.
Canyons of regret
run down
his cheeks
as he presses
handfuls of salt
into his broken skin.


She keeps looking for something.
She’ll find herself forgetting what it was, but
still she remembers there was something.
Something meaningful and warm and gentle.
It’s difficult to give up
on what’s meaningful and warm and gentle.
She’s reminded how quickly change occurs
even when it takes a lifetime.
She’s reminded of all those moments
she can no longer recall.
There must be something she missed
like when she got lost on the mountain with no water
and ended up with two boys following her for guidance.
All three of them ended up torn, bloody and desperate.
Life is like that, shouting for help to a silent mountain
and then mindlessly stumbling
to the place you thought you would never find.
Sitting on the continental divide
she feels small and enormous all at once.
She could not then imagine herself as overlooked
falling into the freedom of erasure.
If she could only now make sense of herself
and remember what she has to find.