issue 8
// poetry
Ecclesiastes
by Jenna V. Wray
A lonely octopus
solves a Rubik’s Cube
& feels no satisfaction.
Every morning, with a pill,
I ask my serotonin
not to leave so quickly.
It unmagically obliges.
New paintings are hung
for less than a week
before they turn invisible,
our eyes habituating
quickly out of wonder.
The dead could get up
as they please,
but they prefer to sleep;
they know the world
is weariness
& have no false nostalgia.
Even so, like a dying bug
trapped in phosphorescent,
my grief continues
stupidly
buzzing against the glass.
about the author // Jenna V. Wray
| Jenna V. Wray (née Sumpter) edits for Kelsay Books and The Orchards Poetry Journal. Her work appears in Caesura, New Welsh Review, and elsewhere. A member of the WAY Writing Group in central Arkansas, she’s received multiple 2025 awards from White County Creative Writers, a BFA from the University of Evansville and Harlaxton College, and a much-belated OCD diagnosis. |
Instagram/Threads/Substack/X: @JVSReads
