Poetry by Jennifer Campbell
Recalling craftsmen
and cobblestone streets,
I may be the apprentice,
laying rice paper
between leather straps
in a protective shield.
I slide slips over leather pulls
and foam circles
over grommets
and buckles.
I give myself permission.
I leave no fingerprints
on silver. The scent
of earth lets go
with each fold and tuck,
wrap and smooth.
The finished product
grows incrementally smaller,
an act of love
expressed one too many times.
Jennifer Campbell is an English professor in Buffalo, NY, and a co-editor of Earth’s Daughters. She has published two full-length poetry books and a chapbook of reconstituted fairytale poems. Jennifer’s work appears in The Healing Muse, San Pedro River Review, The Sixty-Four Best Poets of 2019, and Paterson Review.
