Tag Archives: Jennifer Cahill

Dream Catcher

By Jennifer Cahill

Sterling silver jewels 
are pendulous on her ear-lobes

as she shakes her head,
as they sit by a river lit up

with a shimmer of man-made light.
Salmon with peach colors is a feast

for the sky above them; 
yet her new diamond is tossed

into this dove tinted water, 
with orange and deep yellows-

the celestial sphere
becomes an adorned queen;

she wears her crown of diamonds
as a half moon is punched

into this empyrean, 
and a moon bow is tossed to them.


Jennifer Cahill earned a Masters of Science in Administrative Studies from Boston College. She has published the poems The Foxy Neutrino and War in the Distance is Better with Arkansas Technical College(2020), and Dusk Colored Wings with The Voices Project(August 25, 2020); Gods Feast on Lost Moons with Tempered Runes(2020). She lives in Massachusetts with her cat ‘Tilly.’

Bathwater

By Jennifer Cahill

She is in the bath,
dirt tints are in the bathwater;
a mist has formed.

She is clean; she has washed 
the oils in her dirty-
blond hair. A daddy

long leg on the sill
does not scare her, his legs are curled,
still. August also

drenches her skin; she
is still wet as she wraps herself 
in plush towels, red

as her ruddy cheeks.
A bleed on the edge of sky 
as the sun is a burst

clot; her blush is rose 
dust; her aorta widened.
She sees through the glass

the ash colored
Fish Crow, with grass-green shiny
hues on his wings, with gold…

The water in the tub
will drain slowly, gathering 
around the vortex

that drowns spider bones- 
moon, dust colors sucked ’til
the last gurgle; burp.


Jennifer Cahill earned a Masters of Science in Administrative Studies from Boston College. She has published the poems The Foxy Neutrino and War in the Distance is Better with Arkansas Technical College(2020), and Dusk Colored Wings with The Voices Project(August 25, 2020); Gods Feast on Lost Moons with Tempered Runes(2020). She lives in Massachusetts with her cat ‘Tilly.’

A Canadian Goose Landed in Her Throat

By Jennifer Cahill

Today, she feels her.
She alerts her soul-mates, their storm-
colored bodies. She cries,

her wings contracted, 
a honk mingled with an ” I am
amongst you”, and chimes

so dampened, they toll
like Hemingway’s Bell: a Goose,
Canadian, a wife,

is in my dried throat 
this morning, within the drops 
of the shower. A peal,

but a high note “oppressed”.
The fat, so off-key with the song
of her being, folds

into pastel wings.
They are light, like an American 
shore bleached by the Suns.

Her wet, soft blonde arms 
reach for Irish sea-tints: a bar,
and a rainforest (shampoo).

To cleanse coffee oils. 
Her hands rub the porousness. 
The buoying scents,

like the sparks of incense,
sink into her entity. 
The shrine might flood.

Her hair twists like rope,
enshrouds her loosened countenance 
that is a burnt rose.

The sheen of her skin 
shines in the bathroom’s white glow.
She sings; she lifts the grass-

green towel to dry.
She grabs the faded face cloth,
the hue of a weary

field, barren but for the gold 
butter-cup weeds of the longest
days. she tosses the tough

machine-threaded cotton, 
to FLY, off of her body.
Her damp hair is night

colored; blonde wings clipped 
at birth. Yet, within the misty
brushstrokes of morning,

beneath a gentle 
wedding-white sky with buttercup 
hues the Goose, a wife, may feast, hushed.


Jennifer Cahill earned a Masters of Science in Administrative Studies from Boston College. She has published the poems The Foxy Neutrino and War in the Distance is Better with Arkansas Technical College(2020), and Dusk Colored Wings with The Voices Project(August 25, 2020); Gods Feast on Lost Moons with Tempered Runes(2020). She lives in Massachusetts with her cat ‘Tilly.’

The Hunter’s Guide

By Jennifer Cahill

Radiance sifts through the crinkled foliage, 
as the shadows mimic the gently oscillating

leaves. For the full yellow-white moon has risen. A brook cascading over stones

is embraced by grassy banks, 
as it flows through an Early Autumn.

The runnel captures the shimmering gleam;
it is a glittering diamond bracelet

wrapped around a woman’s wrist;  
she may pleasurably touch, twist the glass-like gems-

like the falling leaf that flutters, lightly grazes the surface, twirls in the breeze.

A bird nesting over the moonlit rill
wears its luster on its grey- green speckled

wings. They are tucked to sleep.
The coloring leaves rustle, continue to sway…


Jennifer Cahill earned a Masters of Science in Administrative Studies from Boston College. She has published the poems The Foxy Neutrino and War in the Distance is Better with Arkansas Technical College(2020), and Dusk Colored Wings with The Voices Project(August 25, 2020); Gods Feast on Lost Moons with Tempered Runes(2020). She lives in Massachusetts with her cat ‘Tilly.’

Chest Pain

By Jennifer Cahill

A rope is pulled, becomes taut, 
within a “tug-of war” of emotions;
a photon light split; a jagged silver-white 
tearing and searing the sky.

The CHEST tenses, the shoulders curve, 
pulled inward. The dull fireworks,

stab of something you do not want, desire.
An illusion: the silhouette of a tree

in the wind seems to nod 
as it stands under a twilight sky,

to the Spirits;

to the ghosts of children, 
who climbed this backyard tree,

the one with rotting apples 
that seem to hesitate

as they cling to the branches, 
not certain if they want to fall,

but they must.

Summer colors are sketched with chalk, 
charcoal shades are as dark as a coal mine,

the daubs of sunlight are a tan yellow,
the apples are a green earth, with a ruby shine..

and the child swung on a white painted board 
that hung with two ropes from the tree,

the rope TENSE with the weight 
of her body. As the coral emblazoned sky

came closer and closer, as she swung
higher and higher…


Jennifer Cahill earned a Masters of Science in Administrative Studies from Boston College. She has published the poems The Foxy Neutrino and War in the Distance is Better with Arkansas Technical College (2020), and Dusk Colored Wings with The Voices Project (August 25, 2020); Gods Feast on Lost Moons with Tempered Runes (2020). She lives in Massachusetts with her cat ‘Tilly.’

Potter’s Field

By Jennifer Cahill

The new moon 
is of a chilled northern night.
It is unseen as it fluxes the sea.

On the Midnight edge 
of this sea there rests a graveyard, 
whose ethereal voice is sung

by the sterling glitter 
of the Winter sky. The graveyard’s solitude 
is a wish that slips away..

The tombs have missal tints,
host the souls of dark storm clouds 
who knife the tumultuous oceans

with searing streaks of light;
who toss the shine of a moon-bow;
and bandage the deep heavens.


Jennifer Cahill earned a Masters of Science in Administrative Studies from Boston College. She has published the poems The Foxy Neutrino and War in the Distance is Better with Arkansas Technical College(2020), and Dusk Colored Wings with The Voices Project(August 25, 2020); Gods Feast on Lost Moons with Tempered Runes(2020). She lives in Massachusetts with her cat ‘Tilly.’