Journalism in Verse – EST. 2016


My Earth and Hers

in Identity/MeToo by

She’s a space heater in his bed to warm
his cold, old bones. She’s a flower blossom
on the tree—plucked before her pliant, pink
body turned to soft and fleshy, sweet and
dripping, live-living and life-giving fruit.
She’s a caterpillar like a baby
blanket: fuzzy wuzzy to the touch. I
think of her and of the man who worked hard,
worked long, learned all the wrong lessons, and waits
for death with a little girl in his arms.
I think of her, and I think of her, and
I think of her, and I think of her, and
I think of me: who are we when we are
alone (in relation to nobody)?



Jay Eddy is a writer, composer, and performer. The twin polestars of her work are violence against womxn and disability. She is working on an album of music and poetry, TELL ME HOW OLD I AM: a pop meditation on the aftershocks of sexual violence.


Epstein’s accusers still deserve justice and will go after his alleged enablers, their lawyers say
[Washington Post]

Latest from Identity

cherry stems tied in a heart shape


By Heidi Seaborn. The words of womanhood, reclaimed.
A photo of a small kid in a field

Purim Shpil

By J.L. Wall. At this vernal thaw, let there be innocence.
Go to Top