By AIDAN COOPER
In all my experience the boy
has what it takes to break
away, unfurl the tootsie roll
lollipopped in the cherry
of his chest. In his bedroom socket
the nightlight loses its gaze on
a broad day near its own
gone. He pours OJ into a glass
in the dark. Dreams in skirts flowing &
maxi & cries Brandi Carlisle
through the red ball gag of Jupiter
to a whole crowd of corpses. They clap
him toward confession the disco
of guilt & in this light his lipstick shade
says shame, says,
never knew a mirror to conceive
personhood so pretty perhaps
I’m not even human. Beauty
happens when he coughs
after singing so damn loud
& no one heard heaven
that wasn’t wind & god there’s wind
in outer space no matter
what they say & the celestial chimes
those sweet swaying magic reeds
they could be my hips, love.
Writer | Aidan Cooper ’26 | acooper26@amherst.edu
Editor | Odessa Ikels ’28 | sikels28@amherst.edu