Back to Issue Thirty-Five

The Law of Attraction


Love is the greatest force in the universe.
But where does that leave Aphrodite,

born of sea scum and castration?

She too would plunge if pushed
from the ledge of catastrophe. Gravity

factors the weight of a heart in
its velocity: the speed

with which we rush
the things we think

we need. Easy is the love
of a cyclops — how quickly
one eye fixes, focused

on a single thought— manifestation

birthed in those pools we too often
splash through hunting the clouds
that cast them. I’ve watched

a body float down a river
all current & collection

oceanic pull as one body

devours another.
Gulls war with vultures

over fresh flesh of a corpse dragged
ashore. Feathers are never

enough to share the feast,

and her son, with his span of wings,
craving his mother’s cradle,

could aim arrows
toward the flock

in warning. Or maybe

his eye is elsewhere. His heart about
to leave the room of grief
for a more grateful castle.

So many virgins,

so many beaks pecking
at decaying matter. The finest line

between strong & weak interactions.

After tasting a goddess,
nothing else satisfies.



Jessica Fischoff is the editor of [PANK], the editor of American Poetry Journal, and the recipient of The Donald Hall Scholarship at Bennington College. Her words appear in Southampton Review, Kenyon Review, The Common, Best American Poetry, and Esquire.

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