POETRY

The End

That end-of-the-journal feeling

Amy Jasek
2 min readFeb 22, 2024

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instant film photo by author (purple gel on flash!)

The last pages of a blank book
no longer blank now but
brimming with scratched
out dreams in lead and ink
a project of projected words
a full carafe of craft
most of it cast out
like bread upon the water
or a lantern carried by
the heat of the small flame
inside up through the wind
and into other lives

words lived
words shared
memories pressed into letters
and molded into specific forms
or allowed to ramble free
but always in little battles with reality:
pattern verses chaos
mountain verses plain
formal colliding with informal
in a room between two pierced ears
where no official training has been imposed
they mingle over imposter cocktails
and titter with cautious laughter
until the door opens again
and they are released to make
their mark upon page after page
until the vacant spaces are all flush
and the book has gobbled them up
with a belch, shoving back from the table
rubbing its belly, greedy
but now replete

I love the feeling of filling up a blank book! Not only do I think “wow look how much I wrote” but it also means I get to dig into my hoard of new ones. The selection process is exciting — what can I say, I love stationery.

PS I used “verses” instead of “versus” on purpose. Thank you for reading!

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