August 1, 2016

Three Poems by Melissa Fitzgerald: "An eviction notice," "Gladiators," and "A love rant"

Melissa Fitzgerald is a daydreamer masquerading as a student at Northeastern University. She has an imaginary website that is super cool and gets tons of web traffic and hopefully will exist in material form one day.

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An eviction notice

If I'm being entirely honest,
there is a small part of me that is glad you're gone.
I can finally move you out of the boarding house in my mind;
you never paid your rent on time anyways
and I’m drawing up contracts for a new tenant.

You don’t have to move out completely.
I’m giving you this poem
I’ll visit sometimes if you want.


We joked we were gladiators—
all just slaves in an arena watched upon by higher men.
Sometimes they gave us shields and swords;
sometimes they left us with our own two hands.
Some times were harder than others.
Sometimes there were lions and bears; sometimes there was silence.
Sometimes it was quick and sometimes they had us die. Slow.
But we rubbed dirt on our hands and dirt on our wounds
and we passed as many rounds as we could.
I don’t know who put us here;
Who brought us from the dirt,
opened our eyes,
and told us to fight for lives we never asked for.
I don’t know who we thank if we live or if we die.
We joked we were gladiators
of the light, of the darkness, of nothing at all
some times.
Don’t close my eyes when I go. I want to see what comes next.

A love rant

You say I have the loveliest voice
but you must not be listening
to any of the words tripping
out of my mouth I don’t think of you
anymore than I should maybe
I mistook chemistry for friendship fine
wouldn’t be the first time and
I’m not so much embarrassed as
put out. If my life were to have a
theme song, I think it would be
the sound of glass hitting table
and a heart slowing to a standoff,
stalemate, well mate, no I will not
be attending your show again. I am
a fool without a turncoat and I’m not
showing my colors any longer.
You were a great picture for a while, black
and white, a little bit blue, and I loved
all your bruises. I’m soft sure like
overripe fruit and I was just hoping
you would pick me long slender fingers
well point at someone else mate I’m
busy trying to pull the first arrow out
pierced unexpectedly, you had a
piercing in your tongue, a silver ball
sometimes I could hear it against
the microphone and I imagined
you were entirely made of silver.
I’m beginning to think you’re just metallic,
I can hear the echo in your smile
and I’m looking for something
more whole don’t trick me
again. My quivering rather soft spoken voice
telling you it’s not gonna happen
just an echo maybe you only liked it
because it was so easy to talk over and
I’ll see you on Tuesday

~Melissa Fitzgerald 

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