Inkling - Stephen Jackson

Where the window screen was split, repaired —
sewn barely back together with grey cotton thread,

a dandelion seed attempts its way in, presses itself
against a gap in the gash. I struggle to blow it

back out, thinking, Go to him, tell him I love him —
at least, give him an inkling. But this is not

the seed of something pressing its white silk tendrils
against anything fertile, it is only the wind, like

this ancient imagination of mine, millions of years
of trying — until finally, something sinks in.

Originally published by Floodlight Poetry 2020

Stephen Jackson lives and writes in the Pacific NW. Twice-nominated for the Pushcart Prize, his writing has appeared in a variety of online and print publications, including The American Journal of Poetry and the International Human Rights Art Festival Publishes anthology, A Human Voice. Poems are forthcoming in Allium, A Journal of Poetry & Prose and Prairie Fire.