Couple Goals
He tosses a penny
at my feet
in the South
Shore Mall.
Commands me,
dirty Jew,
to pinch it—
he pinches
my cheek.
His voice
rings with fire ants
when he calls
me Kike.
But it’s doused
in honey, sweet
for the new year
& I’m sweet on him,
so I let him take
what he wants.
The proud boy
with the German
last name
fingers me
in the backseat
of my ‘02 Passat,
& I let him ‘cause
he’s a boy
with a skateboard
& Seroquel.
I let him ‘cause
want feels like a blaze
& he’s the only one
stoking.
I have to pretend
he doesn’t live
in a town
nicknamed
White Islip.
I’m dreaming
of the proud boy,
& in this dream,
his friends
with corn-blonde
hair & blue eyes
talk a big game,
naming each other
something hard
while fanning
their stacks. Against
steering wheels
they fondle
Glocks & drink
Colt 45s. My proud boy
loves himself,
so when he knocks
me up,
I consider
keeping it .
He’s ravenous
for my guts,
so I
invite him
inside
where a home
cooked meal
salutes him.
Jessica Ballen
Jessica Ballen, MFA, is a Pushcart Prize–nominated poet and a 2026 Variant Lit Poetry Prize shortlistee and 2025 RHINO Founders' Prize finalist. She serves as Development Director at Sundress Academy for the Arts (SAFTA). She is a senior editor at Small Harbor Press and a guest editor for Frontier Poetry and Palette Poetry. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Iron Horse Literary Review, Okay Donkey, SWWIM Every Day, and Shō Poetry Journal, among others.
Interview:
What do you consider the driving force behind your poems? The "engine" if you will, that keeps each one running? is it always different? If so, what fuels the engine of this poem?
Many of my poems take on an observational viewpoint and originate from a real memory. I often think of them as accounts of witness. The engine is always different. Each poem is fueled by whatever memory it returns to. This piece, in particular, returns to a few memories of when I was a teen, hanging out with a group of skater boys a few towns over from mine. I heard the antisemitic names they called me, but I did what most kids do when they want to fit in—I laughed them off but stored the memory for later. So of course now in my mid 30s, I call upon those memories: the juxtaposition of youthful folly rubbing up against my current disgust for the situation. What I like about this poem is its lack of emotion all the way through. It's a matter of fact. It's reporting. But I'm writing it because it's an account that happens far too often, not just to me, and not just to Jewish people.
What is your drafting process like? Voice notes, phone memos, type writer, napkin notes? I'd love to know the tea!
I usually draft a line here and there in OneNote, which I've been doing since 2016 (!!!!). Most of my lines come to me as I'm falling asleep at night, which can be pretty annoying since I won't fall asleep until I've written them down. From there, I take whichever line(s) I feel most called to at the time and open a new Google Doc. That's where most of the actual writing and editing happens. I save draft after draft of the same poem to track its evolution.
This particular poem has been through the wringer! It started as a piece borrowing language from an Anne Sexton poem. I workshopped it in my second semester of my MFA while working with Jaswinder Bolina, and he suggested I modernize the language. So I dropped the antiquated words but kept Sexton's concept. To be honest, I'm scared to even look at how many drafts this piece endured! But once I modernized the language, it was pretty easy to tap into my own memories of my high school ex boyfriend and his friends and write from experience.
What have you read, watched, or listened to lately that you feel is feeding your work right now?
Currently, I have the new Phoebe Bridgers album on repeat—for hours. For days. Before that, I was hyperfocusing on Charli xcx's latest album. When in doubt, I'll put on Ethel Cain's discography. She channels intensity in a way I wish to emulate in my poetry. As far as reading goes, Jaia Hamid Bashir's The Afterlife of Sweetness completely altered my writing. Her book was magical.