Death, Jackson Pollock

if anything should happen to one
we are softened to a mishap of bread over wine
an undesirable and messy equation

inevitable x (desirable)

Is anything inevitable desirable, or are we spoiled children,
not to be trusted around Everlasting Gobstoppers? 

not to stuff our faces with eternities of color
over blank canvases
falling like lava drips juiced from gallstones
expelled from the friction of twisting metal and bile
the smell of rubber-fire that will never extinguish itself
from the questions of accelerants
the flinging of flammable blood

the mistress survives, smug
a chauffeured muse misery
moving on like the sparked liver
pink as a newborn mink 


Maggie Dove is a cross-genre Southern writer by way of South Florida. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Hobart, Cosmonauts Avenue, JMWW, Queen Mob’s Tea House, Drunk Monkeys, *82 Review, and elsewhere. She is currently a semifinalist for the 2019 Pamet River Prize for her memoir manuscript "Dirtbag Lights" and is a 2019 Best of The Net nominee. She is petty and immature, and has many tribal tattoos from the 90s for which she refuses to be apologetic. Her blog can be found at and she is on Twitter @romcomdojo.