Jeffrey Thompson
Winter 2025 | Poetry
Communication II
1.
You said the dog I saw
running across the busy street
might not be a stray at all.
That was the kind of info
I was paying for at the time.
2.
Sure, you could push the church aside. Or,
or, you could wait one second
and see
her dog at the end of its leash.
3.
We’re here. We made it here.
Now shut off the light,
I look like shit.
Kiss me. Kiss me, lick my face.
Jeffrey Thompson was raised in Fargo, North Dakota, and educated at the University of Iowa and Cornell Law School. He lives in Phoenix, Arizona, where he practices public interest law. His work has appeared in North Dakota Quarterly, The Main Street Rag, Hole in the Head Review, The Tusculum Review, ONE ART, Maudlin House, New World Writing, and 34th Parallel Magazine. His hobbies include reading, hiking, and photography.