Size / / /

I have no words

of comfort for the likes of you,

my sad, charmed boy.

Jove's bloated court echoes with snores,

yours loudest, when I wander through.

I have no words

to make my cratered form cohere:

banished hunter, raped virgin, beast.

You sad, charmed boys

think toting Chardonnay's a dream,

but Jove still fucks you in your sleep.

I have—no, words

can't compare with mouthfuls of hair

and bile. Our void has no echo,

my sad, charmed boy,

so don't ask me to conjure up

your soft grass bed. I'm all darkness,

I have no words,

O sad, charmed boy.

Melissa Frederick's poetry and prose have appeared in numerous publications, including the Mid-American Review, DIAGRAM, Astropoetica, Mythic Delirium, and Star*Line. Her poetry chapbook, She, was published by Finishing Line Press in 2008.
Current Issue
2 Oct 2023

How did we end up so far east, on the flanks of a cold beach? You told me you always wanted to see the Pelagio, ever since you were a child. But your skin was never made for water. You shouldn’t have ever learned to swim.
look through the soap, the suds, the sopping wet clothes
as she leaves mortality behind / She always returns to me
Wednesday: Infinite Constellations: An Anthology of Identity, Culture, and Speculative Conjunctions edited by by Khadijah Queen and K. Ibura 
Friday: The Moonlight Blade by Tessa Barbosa 
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