Jaz Persing is a writer, singer, and human living in Los Angeles. She works in television when she can. The rest of the time she’s just looking for a dare-to-be-great situation, hoping she can put a good dent in the world with the mess of broken love, vulnerability, and words she has. In the meantime, she’s immensely grateful for God and the many good people around her that make it all seem feasible.

Before You Wake

How freely I find you have captured me
Enraptured by this loose hold
Electrified by a hand on the small of my back
Bone liquified
And somehow we were a strength in motion

I want you chalantly
I contain no quadrant of chill

Why so much need for containment
Did I crave a swaddling or a strangling
Or did I eat that line
In the tangle of your sheets

This is never a place I feel belonging for long
Is this a permanent lostness I must accept or is this
Just something to tide us over
But the tide is filling my lungs

In the moments I write this
Where you withhold waking
I always find an easy despising
For what you choose to keep for yours
Until you rouse and draw me back into a hypnosis of forgetting

Are you making me greater or lesser?
You are not making
I have chosen to be here, so I can only ask
Does this befit my becoming?

My back is an open invitation
My spine crossed at your
Leisure, comfort, whim
Yours is a clear wall
A distancing that says, "I will engage
When it behooves me"

My arc ceaselessly bends
Toward mysterious and morose
How many invitations can I extend
Before waking becomes withering


Dances on the Edge