Closet Space
You are the clothes I’ve kept
hoping will come back into style
or — at the very least —
fit me again
as once I thought you did.
James Gaynor
I Watch the Porn Stars
When I see a naked guy jacking
and he looks sad,
the economy of his country destroyed by corruption,
I click a “GOLD” button.
Each time I do he gets the equivalent of one U.S. dollar.
So I sent “jerry wilson” a gold coin and he smiled.
I hit the GOLD button four more times.
My 5 dollars converted to 5 million bolivars.
Craig Cotter
Mary Jo and Sappho
Female Companions of Sappho,
Antoine-Christian Zacharie
called Tony Zac, ca. 1868
Her face is facing the sea, her shoulders
are covered in a wrap she took from a hook
on the door before we walked out
of the dim-lit room where I’d kissed her
and called her my altar.
She said: “Some say this, some say that,
but I say—whatever you desire,
that is beauty.” She ofc said more than that
but that’s what I remember best.
When we made our way along the path
at the top of the precipice and saw the boys
waving up to us, we called down,
“Can’t you tell we’re together?” By which
we meant that we liked one another
and what we did better. We were otherwise
behaved—tempting the fates and painting
the dawn electric red with ultra-golden
highlights. “So pretty,” Aphrodite said.
After that, everyone wanted one. I loved her
terribly. She loved me for all of a second
before running off with the ghost
of a goddess who’d lied when she said
she loved her. She preferred that once-was
to me, a mortal who never lied but who was
flawed in every other way. This account
of the action, recounted ad infinitum,
is a way of refreshing the narrator so
the story can maintain itself until the dead
understand the damage they’ve done.
Mary Jo Bang
