Jacques J. Rancourt

“Grass so sharp it cuts our shins, I loved you most
when there was some semblance of the real—
pain, beads of blood—that made me look
outside the dream, at the globe of the sky
already deteriorating. The facts
I don’t remember. Only how it felt to remember
the moments I was pulled out.

—Jacques J. Rancourt, from “Sedge,” Novena (Pleiades Press, 2017)”
― Jacques J. Rancourt, Novena