At recess in 5th, maybe 6th grade, I used to jump rope double-dutch. If you’ve never held your hands up to catch the rhythm of the ropes, rushed into the eye of the slapping lasso, stutter-stepped until panting, then raced out to survive the whip of the cord, you’ve missed quite a thrill, as wellContinue reading “Boss Stage Healing”
Author Archives: Jaclynn Loibl
We Are Family
It’s a day when loose-leafed trash blusters about the neighborhood. A street light flashes like a red carpet to a rave but is likely nothing more than a wire come undone. I’m wet-headed, a product of a late-night out hot tubbing with friends. I’m nudging myself to unclench muscles and to use frustration and irritationContinue reading “We Are Family”
He Ain’t Heavy
I nag myself away from colorful curtains on Pinterest to write. About what I have yet to find, but like animals to the call of the wild from the open page, I cannot myself deny. I’m in the market for crushed-up oyster shells, their rich calcium content is a need for my duck’s egg production.Continue reading “He Ain’t Heavy”
Cluh Mot Toe
Hoping to coax the hiding vulnerability in myself out, I ask, “What do you want to write about?” I set aside my need for a jaw-dropping, knee-slapping post and sit down cross-legged. Turning down the expectation dial, I lean back and follow the texture on the ceiling, clearing my mind and allowing space to form.Continue reading “Cluh Mot Toe”
Intimacy’s Devilish Dance: A Poem
Shrouded with barbed wire, we trudge the land of the untouchable. Enter At Your Own Risk, the scalding caldrons seem to say, oozing forth with frothing anticipation. A Venus Fly Trap, its tendrils hypnotize and tempt, then snap tight its kill. A funhouse mirror twists the thin to swirly and morphs whispers to screams. AContinue reading “Intimacy’s Devilish Dance: A Poem”
Butterfly In The Sky
How enamoring are butterflies; their vulnerable fluttering, expansive display of color and the jaw-dropping carwash change from dull walkers to acrobatic artists. Cinderella, the Ugly Duckling, She’s All That, and Grease. There’s nothing like a good ol’ transformation from rags to riches or fugly to beautimous that we can’t help but stand and slam ourContinue reading “Butterfly In The Sky”
Mortality’s Knock
I’m building a Leggo block house with extra high walls to prevent monsters, and additional protection is “pew” guns that shoot thorns for the girl and her cat. Three-year-old Evelyn’s imagination is brilliant. Out of practice are my cat whisperer chops, and I’m scrambling to think of how to make my cousin’s cats feel moreContinue reading “Mortality’s Knock”
Singin’ Sweet Songs
“Good golly Miss Molly”, I say wincing my body into a bath of steamy water. I’d get thrown in jail for doing a similar action to a child, but myself? Nah, this is called self-care. At the start of a game of pool, right after the cue ball strikes the top ball, the next twoContinue reading “Singin’ Sweet Songs”
Woman Of Few Words
But I don’t want to. Write. Not tonight. A luxurious slumber from which you keep. Me at knifepoint I type. Good night. Love, Jaclynn
The Tale of The Teeniest Rubber Chicken
Eyes sunk deep in their sockets, I trudge myself to work. Last night’s D&D session 11 pm, followed by writing and yoga, led to a late night for this sweet body of mine. I felt it, too, like a hangover. Still, when arriving at my office, snaking through its corners, and flipping on lights, IContinue reading “The Tale of The Teeniest Rubber Chicken”
Going On 40 