Unscrewed
By Jamie Jones    

Mason jar! she screams,
her face red, the vinegar
vapor voice reaching me
outside. Tomatoes plump in mid air,
ripe, ripped off stems, covered
in fine thumbprint dents.
A basket hangs at my waist,
tied around me with twine.
Gathering, I obey
Do not pick from dying vines!
No disease, no pink!
so I pluck and apologize
to them, hear squealing in the salt,
see them bubble with the boil
until their skin splits.
Still I grab/pull/toss, and wish
on the tiny green ones,
to meet you today. Somewhere
dark and smoky.  

But then her, screaming out the window
jamming fruit in jars,
wiping with her knuckle
the sweat that rests
above her lip.

Jamie Jones was born and raised in Westland, Michigan. She got her B.S. from Eastern Michigan University in 2006 and will be finishing up her MA in Creative Writing from there as well in December 2008. She is actively involved in the many publications on and around EMU's campus including Cellar Roots, Real Beginnings, and Dogzplot literary journal. After receiving her MA, she will go on to obtain an MFA in Creative Writing, somewhere, somehow.

© 2007 prickofthespindle.com