Tonight, by the quarter moon,
I will visit the Pemigewasset
lie down my tired bones
let notch waters churn
run the course of my body
pin me to the smooth roundness
upon which I rest
until neither of us notice
the stranger’s stillness
how all that seemed out of place
once was, once wanted
is no longer anything
but this river flowing.
Poem & Photo ©2026 Jen Payne. If you like this poem, you’ll love my book SLEEPING WITH GHOSTS, on sale now at my Etsy Shop.
The hitchhiker
heading south on 3
towards Woodstock
represents, to my mind now,
a sort of Choose Your Own Adventure
If you decide to keep driving, turn to page six
If you decide to pick him up, turn to page nine
If you decide to keep driving…The End or maybe
If you decide to pick him up…The End
If you decide to throw caution to the wind, page nine
If you decide to roll the dice, let fate decide, let freakin’ Jesus take the wheel
go to page nine
If you roll down the window
If you ask him: Where are you going?
If you let him in…
If he smiles angelically
If he pulls out a gun
If he asks where you’re going
Where the fuck are you going?
go to page nine
At least you get to see what comes next
you will know where you are going
page nine
or page six
Does it matter anymore?
If you keep driving
If you get in an accident
If you stop for lunch
If you pick him up
If it turns out he knew your high school boyfriend in a past life*
*true story
If you run over him
If you drive off a bridge
If you kill him
If he kills you
If you fall in love
If you write a poem…
If you decide to keep driving, turn to page six
If you decide to pick him up, turn to page nine
Click here for more about the Choose Your Own Adventure books. Photo & Poem ©2026 Jen Payne. If you like this poem, you’ll love my book SLEEPING WITH GHOSTS, on sale now at my Etsy Shop.
The moon said Get Up!
And while the cat
and cardinal
insisted I had some purpose
for the day,
I was not convinced.
I AM not convinced.
This slow and useless
plodding on floorboards
that hold now nearly
30 years of footsteps
seems circuitous.
I can, of course,
enumerate —
if you were to ask —
point out the notches
and plaques,
consider the possible
one heart, one life, one pain
but those are slow to come
at 4 when the soft known comfort
of sheets and dreams
seems the best I can hope for
these days, when even footsteps
have become formidable.
Poem ©2026 Jen Payne. NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month. If you like this poem, you’ll love my book SLEEPING WITH GHOSTS, on sale now at my Etsy Shop.
I wake up with a start
realize that I am, myself,
the April fool
still thinking I have control
(or hope)
of making it out alive
all these years
swimming against a tide
tilting at windmills
chasing wild geese
pushing boulders up hills
when in reality
I am just the monster
at the end of the book
silly old
silly, old me
Poem ©2026 Jen Payne. NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month. If you like this poem, you’ll love my book SLEEPING WITH GHOSTS, on sale now at my Etsy Shop.
One coyote howl
wakes us at 4
and we both,
the cat and I,
move around
blankets
and curtains
hoping to see
the creature
cross the road
ask each other why?
and for what purpose?
laugh at our inside joke
before falling back into dreams
neither one of us can translate —
coyotes and gunman,
snap traps and mice,
the violent world outside.
Poem ©2026 Jen Payne. NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month. If you like this poem, you’ll love my book SLEEPING WITH GHOSTS, on sale now at my Etsy Shop.
I’m dreaming about the man in the field
its autumn backdrop oddly out of place
with the spring cacophony
that filters through my nighttime window;
he’s talking about collective trauma —
the seeping-in of our wild world
on jet streams and ethernets
on brainwaves and internets —
a scrolling litany of the everything
we were not built to absorb
and the everything against which
we are powerless;
a continental, monumental shift
beneath our feet
in a landslide brought me down
epic crescendo sort of way
I’m sure Stevie never imagined.
Poem ©2026 Jen Payne. NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month. If you like this poem, you’ll love my book SLEEPING WITH GHOSTS, on sale now at my Etsy Shop.
It is No Kings in March
and a one-man King Lear
opines from a makeshift stage
in a Union building
on the bank of a river;
he is boisterous
and profound,
a shapeshifter
come to teach us
again
about the failings
of ego and power
here in this space
that smells of
picket signs and
hard-won fights,
placards of victory
line the walls
while outside,
the wind has changed
as bodies are counted
to move the scale of battle more.
Photo: New Haven, CT, March 28, by Jen Payne. Poem ©2025, Jen Payne. If you like this poem, you’ll love my book SLEEPING WITH GHOSTS, on sale now!
I can’t keep throwing books out
just because I’ve lost patience with words,
even the ones meant to console
my wintering spirit;
there is little consolation these days
where hope is a burden of expectations
I want to stab violently with a fork
that instead finds its way into another
slice of cake I keep hidden beneath my bed,
its sweet, sweet comfort
savored between the puzzle of dreams
that have so many layers,
and so many meanings,
one might think I was fucking Jung,
a rabid affair that keeps me trapped
in this godforsaken space
analyzing and processing
analyzing and processing
analyzing and processing
still here again always…
a bonfire stack of books by the door
my Plan B should the promises keep failing.
Photo by Suzy Hazelwood. Poem ©2025, Jen Payne. If you like this poem, you’ll love my book SLEEPING WITH GHOSTS, on sale now!
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