Megan Freshley - Two Poems


This is the part
where our hero
all hope lost

slumps unconscious on her horse
and now it’s all up to the horse

With redemption, the sky pants
The sky panting, unpanting

Obliterate me to synth
Fashion my mouth a signified
without a signifier

My robes maneuver a fickle wind
glitch between her and her and her
Unceremoniously the fruit falls from its branch

I kid, I kid
There’s an old saying that goes fuck men

At the end of the night
everyone must fuck themselves

In an Are You Afraid of the Dark twist
I find I’m in my place of power

My pussy rides its own convertible
My barbie dreamhouse has no locks
I walk down the street devouring its street fruit

The men gone, crying it out together in a stadium
tissue boxes launched into the stands
from great distances by people in outfits

I had a higher self and I ate her
like the octomom
and now my higher self’s voice
comes from down here in my stomach

Walking big and slow around the night
Fountain of beauty, turn thy faucets outward

I stabbed an entire closetful of pink balloons

Karl Lagerfeld died on a full moon in Virgo
That’s both a reality and the reality

One perfect prism of fucks
A turtledove asleep on its branch
I’m tired, too, love budder

Now everyone please sigh


The flow of imperfection is ungovernable

The casino sky aglow by neon teddy bear
takes a small wind out of me,
my eyes still glassy and pink from earlier

When finally your love possesses me completely
God holds me in his grip like King Kong

Embellishment is love
We watch a trine of swans on YouTube

I’m doing kegels in the moneyed air
I’m doing kegels to the hold music

My grief is my hardcastle
Girls aren’t out here getting “the Rachel”

Always afraid I could dissolve
with the plurality of thingness if I’m not careful
that way an indoor dusk can do to you

never not night

Karolinn FiscalettiIssue 3