Jessica Sabo is a former classical ballet dancer and writer whose work focuses on the intersection between eating disorders, trauma, and sexuality. Her poems and essays have appeared in publications by Weasel Press, Inklette Magazine, and the Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, among others. Her work has been anthologized with ChannelMarker Literary Journal, Adelaide Literary Magazine, and Damaged Goods Press, and is forthcoming with Quillkeepers Press. Jessica was selected as a finalist for the Adelaide Literary Award in Poetry in 2020, and was named a semi-finalist for a Brooklyn Poets Fellowship that same year.
Jessica holds a B.S. from Old Dominion University and is currently earning her MBA from University of Central Florida. A west-coast transplant and Virginian at heart, she currently lives in northern Nevada with her wife and two rescue dogs, one of which has wings.
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PERJURY
They say it gets easier with time
whoever they are,
and that the instinct I was born into
as a child
withers with each passing day
but I’m still waiting.
They tell me to do yoga or
meditate to feel better.
These things, they say, will keep the
urge to erode my body at bay
but I’m still waiting.
I read a story of a woman
who could’ve changed the world.
Found dead, hunched over a toilet.
She died alone —
her body ruptured and her brain
squeezed out of her skull.
And here I am thinking about
how I take up too much space
reading her story.
How I am lifeless too.