Jennifer Jackson Whitley graduated from the University of Georgia with a Bachelor of Arts in English. Though media and creative writing are her passions, they did not pay the bills. She went back to school for her Master of Arts in Teaching at North Georgia College and State University and currently teaches high school English, where she has found a new passion: enlightening young minds to think outside-the-box. She acts as an editor for *Spilt Milk* online literary journal and *Warm Milk Printing Press*. Her work has been featured in various online publications, including *Titular*and *Blue Print Review. *

Used (January 20, 2010. Issue 13.)

Sick sickle; she’s got that oomph,
but not the good kind.
blackening eyes, her mascara too bright,
I’d help her, but she’s not mine.

Hold on; hold my own,
wondering how to fight the man.
that woman.
She’s sick; her fickle ice cycle,
those thick lips; I wonder if she cries.

How old are you—
You, you wonder too much.
Ice down the sheets; he likes it hot.
Too bad you’re not.

How long does it take…
these thick lips, thin hips,
coke splits, cracked whips; they’re all for you.
You want me, too. I know you do.

Don’t fight it. Don’t cry.
Fight your craving, craze craving,
break up, wave goodbye;
keep those savings –
you’ll be back in time.