portion of the artwork for J Pascutazz's poetry

Brunch with the Gorgon
J Pascutazz

I’m an ancestral whirlwind. You’re a population
Praying I’ll veer harmlessly into the Atlantic
Not turn airborne tables and chairs into projectiles
You tell me no one wants to see a bitch get crazy

America, I only wanted to blow you away
My windy hands whipped through your hot pussy
Call me fake news. I cry a twitter storm
We’re all influenced by fictitious forces

Spinning in accelerated frames of reference
I’m putting my queer wheel on your shoulder
You tried keeping up with the Kardashians
We’re all primal Amazon rainforest members

I’m an emotional feedback mechanism
Make me jealous, I’ll blacken your apples
And shatter your windows, turn your beds
Into boats, and drown you down shit rivers

We both began in warming water bodies
And woke in filthy bathroom mirror selfies
Sexy computer models predict our landfall
You’re innocent. I’m the algorithm of fate

You still don’t think this monster is our baby
Who you calling messy? If you so chill, I’d be
Drinking tequila sunrises on tropical parallels
I’m the one who needs recovery here

You wonder if we’re ever getting back together
To start again as low pressure depressions
A reunited catastrophe of filth and flame
A heart that stops at nothing—I’m not certain


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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 55 | Spring/Summer 2020