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Bradley Trumpfheller

waste of a year you’re the worst looking boy I’ve ever seen I said 

in the voice of a mirror which was fakeglass and bad fathers 


look this is the last night of the harvest 

therefore I can ramshackle besides 


or wear whatever I want I’ll keep 

a week’s worth of monday


milk money in a jar and mirror it’s your face 

that suckergut socks and looks like a pumpkin 


gone soilrot on the stoop 

mirror I’m waiting for you 


to shatter when I shroud myself in lace 

in orchid lobes practice my duck walk 


my clammerheel run away you waste of a boy 

besides I’m barely a boy I’m one half miracle 


the other half is the sky you see we’re both stupid and full of light 


so if this wallpaper doesn’t hurry up and damask 

I’ll do it myself with mascara after all I’m made up 


I’m impossible I’m more myth than the bullet 

that did homecoming or the knuckle that summered 


in the parking lot mirror 

zip me up mirror drag me into this dress 


this night I’m too old for 

else I’ll swallow a bucket of jewelry


and spend the night tricking 

boys with this hand me down lack 


of a smooth fit mirror tonight I’ll let it fiction 

I’ll open my begmouth & eat every bullet 


like a pillowful of candied razors


waste of a prom year besides I’ll be the prettiest boy

they’ve ever seen bleed

Brad Trumpfheller is an undergraduate student at Emerson College. Their poems have appeared in or are forthcoming from Muzzle, Puerto del Sol, Indiana Review, West Branch, and elsewhere. Born in Japan, they are the internship director for Winter Tangerine. 

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