My name is Jacob. I have been called
dreamer of all clichés,
each rung of my ascent debated,
why I did not dare vie with the angels
who knew I could not tell going up
from coming down.
Of course I fled my brother’s knife, my mother’s breath
my father’s implausible blindness. I was still wet,
like any teen testing God’s promises, and though
some were kept, it took sleeping
in the wilderness, rocks for my pillow,
to know I would always be thirsting for home.
Florence is the author of five published collections of poetry, and a sixth, a New and Selected is forthcoming from bluelight press. Her poetry has appeared in numerous literary journals and anthologies. She has worked as an elementary school teacher, a legal investigator and a consumer advocate.