*loose interpretations of haiku in that they’re three-line poems of five, seven and five syllables

Marc gave me a prize:
Telling jokes to an audience.
The thought gives me hives.

Illustrator, Premiere,
Let’s heal our hostility
Before the year’s end.

New Blood bleeds Honey.
All our dreams are pencil-shaped.
The flies we catch: black. 

Portfolio day.
Agencies, you’re invited
To shred our babies.

Having chewed us up,
SCA will spit us out,
Newborn creatives.

Come September noon,
I’ll be walking down the aisle,
Hopefully married.

The Big Smoke drains me.
Countryside commuter club,
Adopt my black lungs.

I’ll miss the cuisine,
Swapping Pop for an office,
But placements feed books.

@jess__saunders