Boy Lolita

 

Boy Lolita

 

Boy Lolita walks like half ixora, half succubus. The red in him isn’t all his own. He’s not even that young, just beautiful in a nectarine way. Childlike, on the inside. Boy Lolita read a poem by Plath — now he eats men like air. Unless they’re paying for his food. He wants rosé and Chinese rice. Tonight in a dark room, someone else’s father is undoing the knot of him. Boy Lolita knows hiding & fear too well. A country will burn the taboo out of him, hates him for what he is known as. For instance, homoerotic. For instance, a boy who eats glass.

 

 

 

Learning to Float

 

Both water & air can float
a morning-bird’s feather.

Beneath shimmering flux,
there is a testament to

a folktale other than this
angled survival. The mirage

of surface is a body uncharted.
The sea says she is red

in more places than you know &
a bird is hardly ever a swimmer.

The fact of the unseen is
also a witch’s covenant.

A mirror, also a knife.

 

 

 

 

Logan February is a happy-ish Nigerian owl who likes pizza & typewriters. He is a poet and a book reviewer at Platypus Press’ Weekend Review. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Adroit, Wildness, Yemassee, Raleigh Review, Tinderbox, and more. He has been nominated for Best of the Net Awards, and his first full length manuscript, Mannequin in the Nude, was a finalist for the Sillerman First Book Prize for African Poets. He is the author of How to Cook a Ghost (Glass Poetry Press, 2017), Painted Blue with Saltwater (Indolent Books, 2018) & Mannequin in the Nude (PANK Books, 2019).

 

 

 

 

2 thoughts on “Boy Lolita”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *