greg jensen

Mosquitos in October

They savor liquor

on my breath,

wood smoke on my collar,

the prick of pulse

after harvest,

bare arms sore

from pulling on vines.

They drink

dark language

I have held in my tongue

without being able

to say what I mean.

The death in me so quick

I can’t believe it’s coming.

One bite at my ankle

and I feel the itch.

All day the buzz

having survived.

Greg Jensen is a joyful native of the damp Pacific Northwest. He has worked with homeless adults living with mental illness and addiction problems for the past 20 years. Winner of the 2014 Jeff Marks Memorial Poetry Prize, his work has appeared in december, Crab Creek Review, Fugue, Jazz Cigarette, and Dunes Review. Greg received his MFA in poetry from Pacific University.