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1 poem

by Felix Lecocq

Felix Lecocq is a recent graduate of the University of Chicago. His writing has been published by Teen Vogue, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, and elsewhere. He is the recipient of the 2020 Les River Fellowship for Young Novelists and is working on his first book.

This poem was shortlisted for the 2020 Peach Gold in Poetry with guest judge ALOK.


The infallible Becky T from bio says

the world isn’t going to end today

or tomorrow or even in two hundred years

& I think that I must be the only person

who has a subscription to the New Yorker

these days so I grimace into my Americano

as the guy she’s with laughs like a church bell

I imagine them dying young & oh

so bitter about it & I briefly mourn them before

I leave for class It is such a relief

to be queer and to have learnt the art of

dying young I will be thankful to wake

at 40 years old in a bathtub of teeth

How Becky T will beg me

to teach her childlessness,

how to live horribly & hypothetically

like the rest of the wretched She will ask me how

I bear it—the hunger, the radiation

while we wear disease like scarlet

silk robes (it is too hot for velvet)

dance in the acid rain (we don’t feel our skin)

luxuriate in the fallout, the glamour of climate


Bioluminescence is the new black!

Those poor kitschless bastards don’t even know

our fabulous devastation, the sweet

perfume of endocrine disruption We


cast our cockroach children into the rising ocean

We watch them swim & learn to swallow

loving the water with their bumbling innocent

faggotry When the END OF THE WORLD comes

it will be agonizing & gorgeous: a slow

electric dusk aching the horizon in all its amber openness

When the END OF THE WORLD comes

I’ll be standing on my back porch

with you, with my hand on your shoulder

& we will face the godlessness together

with all of our house plants freshly watered.

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