Six Poems by Meghann Boltz


Romance is Dead

I write Romance is dead

in pink glitter

non-biodegradable means

it will never leave this earth

better than it found it

like the last universal ancestor

I want to die

at exactly the same time as everyone else on this planet

an Almighty boom

the colors are so vivid here

but the feelings are badly acted

something almost laughable in the way you say

get down on all fours

pretend to be a cow

this is some tableaux

I feel like Cleopatra

in my eau de Nil negligee

open just enough to reveal slightly uneven breasts

I offer you a drink but

milk is only precious to babies

are you a baby?


Darwin feels very sick

when I put on lipstick

for no one

or amuse myself with a peacock feather

he doesn’t know

mirrors only cure loneliness

in certain kinds of animals



“Domestic Bliss”

Things are turning a deep purple: my wet
dreams   of rhinoplasty & a   pink tongue
clean as faux incest    the face of the
day is apathetic      (fallacy)!      every
thing is as beautiful as a sky blue
neo-tropical cockroach off the rain-
forests of Guyana or the word
glossolalia on my hostess mouth
I perform the Eucharist in pentecostal
red with       the body of Brad &       the blood
of Billy Bob    now the Holy Ghost is drunk
on rosé & I don’t care     about the
greater good   O give me bruised lips & a
baby   on my hip   & I’ll say I do

(I do, I do)



Spring Break

Mrs Dalloway said she would put the gun in her mouth herself
see also White Privilege
everyone is very fuckable
all flesh + neon
+ ubiquitous desire for blood
isn’t always greener but sometimes it is
a video game
simulating a horror movie
imitating life
in Florida
the umbilical cord will hold
as long as you keep playing

I guess I need you baby



Butter Cream

open the door to sun
find more winter

sugar-sleep is not sweet
more a slow death

more a white stallion sinking
into quicksand

X, X, and X are here & they
are all lined-up

unwilling Dream Participants
dressed in their Sunday best

trying to conceal chapped lips
wondering why they’ve been called here

to provide warmth to you
you, alone in your swan bed

where you masturbate
as you shove the knife in they

laugh and feed you graham crackers
crying now

the tears astonishing
the color of permafrost

you tell them the dog ate the breadcrumbs
now we are trapped here

they say
and we don’t love you

your bed was designed for a dollhouse &
you’ve never had a dog




O darling! She said.
I wish I had
someone to call

my darling.



Goodbye Horses

do you want to fuck me tell me you want to
fuck me in a pink contralto growl
i’m ready to love myself i’ve got every
thing on my list
a cage
full of catalog models this knife some tape
poreless skin until i gleam





“Spring Break” was inspired by Philippa Snow’s article “‘Spring Breakers,’ Five Years On” for GARAGE.

Meghann Boltz

Meghann Boltz is the author of the chapbook rebel/blonde (Bottlecap Press, 2018). Her work has appeared in Cosmonauts Avenue, GlitterMob, Peach Mag, Dream Pop, Bad Pony and Lor. She rarely tweets @meghann_boltz, but follow her anyways.

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