Warm Room


︎︎︎ Ginger Jones 

︎ Jan 30, 2026

There is a warm room with no windows.

You can hear birds chirp
along pomegranate tree branches and power lines

in an old town where I’ve rung a bell
bigger than any I’ve seen at home.

I am always lighting candles and incense for you here.
You should be noble and naked now.

And I the most virgin and blonde straw headed.
Look at our teeth. We are so fed.

















Ginger Jones is a poet from California.

Also by Ginger: Sleeping Dogs