Four Poems by Jennifer Still

New Work


Suckneck hickey.

Love arrives
in black spandex,
winebottle swervy.

Hover, the dark peaks
of her, hiphorns

circling. The luster,
a thrust insider her



Flaming Sambuca

A spark flares
in our palms,

shot glasses,
sapphire birds.

Take it back
and back,

our dancing bodies
in the dancing light,

the lip-synched licorice
drink.  What’ll it be girls?

A Paralyzer
or a kiss?

Pour us clear
and numb
and burning.



Just above
who we are

high enough
to forget

so final

as the dress
on the  floor.



So we slutted a decade.
Or worse, we didn’t
and still looked like that.

It was not meant to be sad,
our slur of bodies in the hot tub.
Our fevered, beer-buzzed

haze. We wanted to be seen
by the ones who weren’t
looking. First, strangers.
Then later, ourselves.

Jet pressures, there and there.
The steam as we rise, a nightgown
slipped. Ghosts, ghosts
on the loose.

Excerpted with author’s permission from Girlwood, by Jennifer Still, Brick Books, 2011.


Jennifer Still

Jennifer Still is the author of two books of poetry, Saltations (Thistledown, 2005), and Girlwood (Brick, 2011). After an interlude in Saskatoon, she has returned to Winnipeg, where she grew up on Girdwood Crescent.