I Keep Poisoning My Body Like It’s the Earth or Something
The landscape is a headache, it starts as suddenly as it stops.
I only feel real when I’m crying.
Accusations of solipsism.
Haven’t you heard the personal is political!
The internal as a microcosm of the external mise-en-scène.
An obliteration of borders.
Here, come & have some tea.
It is so hot it will scald the roof of your mouth.
And your tongue. It will burn your throat,
Your stomach lining, your intestines, your rectum.
Maybe it wasn’t tea after all.
Something more volatile.
The man said my ex-wife had long hair, then she cut it.
L'Origine du monde translates roughly into English as pain.
What a lark! What a plunge!
To be baptized in the royal blue waters of the Gansevoort Hotel rooftop pool
By the tattooed megachurch preacher
On a day like today
My fear of submergence, temporarily elsewhere
& in this moment, none of it is ridiculous
Anything is possible!
Even a vaginal orgasm sprung from the antediluvian gimmick of penetrative sex—
As rare & unexpected as the Osmia avosetta
Found lining their chambers with pink petals, mud
In the hills off beautiful Antalya, O
How dreamy life can be—
Me, in an oversized Hooters promotional tee, soaked through
To transparency & no closer to god than before
But inviting it all, like a solitary hostess planning her last extravagant party
Remembering none of it but sweetness,
The taste not yet bitter.
There is pleasure
To be found
In the color
Of the millennium
On the telephone
Its paw, its
Such is the
Appeal of this
It turned him
To see her
At the coffee
Like a pinball
A sort of
In your own
Had a thing
Meghann Boltz is a poet and author of the chapbooks Cautionary Tale (b l u s h lit, 2021) and rebel/blonde (Bottlecap Press, 2018), as well as the microchap Roleplay (Ghost City Press, 2020). Her work has appeared in Cosmonauts Avenue, Peach Mag, GlitterMOB, Voicemail Poems, Shitwonder, and elsewhere.