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2 poems

by Jen Frantz

Jen Frantz is currently taking time off from her undergraduate studies at Yale University. Previously, she has worked at a bookstore and a fondue restaurant. Her work has been published in Prelude. She has, unfortunately, thrown up on a tuba before.

Science Fiction

He’s boring and tries to make it more like a decision than an accident.

Carrie Fisher on Harrison Ford

Suppose you were

allowed, and bored.


My crush is famous.

Like all crushes,


you say. This is not a

make-out session


with a poster. Okay? 

Men want their





You and I could

build a better rock.


I always say that.

I’m sorry—


I’m talking

planetary now.


Suppose you were

bored, and accidental.


He might have

worn his


wedding ring.

I don’t know—


I’m not kissing a

cologne ad. I’m


kissing a character.

I autographed


his swimsuit

without him


asking. Call me

presumptuous, but


I do suppose.

Darling, and how.

The Sylvia Plath Effect

I held my glinting.

Explicit—the gurney.


Stay humble he said,

and he was powerful.


I was smooch adjacent.

It’s alive! I said


about myself.

I coaxed a rose


out of my escape.

Hallowed be thy


frame. Like a darling,

I have been known


to wear my flight.

Between creativity


and mental illness

there is a candle


I have not failed.

Sylvia, it shakes.


Within that spell,

we love the


worms like

waxen stems.


Every trick has its

recovery. Every stem


has its boast. I have

lain in the gurney.


The mental health worker

asks me for my phone


number, winks, and I—

total, sound—give it to him.

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