Agave Review
  • About
  • Poetry
  • Prose
  • Criticism
  • Art
  • Interviews
  • Events
  • Submit
    • Placebo

Untitled (Portrait of Ross in L.A.)
​Sam Bovard

       Felix Gonzales-Torres, 1991 
i.
Let me remember that all I am is imagined.
175 pounds of cellophane-wrapped candies sit in a corner 
like the man they are meant to replace. Take a bite 
out of the lover— become the decimation 
that stole his youth, ravaged his body,
taking and taking little pieces, 
shining like the sun, until 
there’s nothing left.

ii. 
To love someone enough to make their dying last forever…
The museum can choose to replenish the pile or leave 
the corner empty, save for the ghost. Is it better 
to die once or forever be dying? What do we 
leave after we go but little pieces of 
cellophane, crinkling in your jacket 
pocket, forgotten and hung 
back up in the closet?

iii.
You have to let the light in, grass stains damp 
on your chest; listen to Twigs sing 
Cellophane and open the body 
unwraptured; take me into 
your mouth and pretend 
that I’m sweet, bright. 
Need me. Eat me.  
And let me imagine that I’ll be remembered.
Picture
Felix Gonzales-Torres, Untitled (Portrait of Ross in L.A.) 1991, Candies individually wrapped in multicolor cellophane, endless supply, ideal weight 175 lbs. The Art Institute of Chicago, Illinois

​Sam (Pomona '23) is an English major and a poet who digitally goes to school in Claremont, CA.

We Publish

Poetry
Fiction
​Creative Nonfiction
​Criticism
Visual Art
​Interviews

Agave Review

About
Staff
Submit
​Apply
© COPYRIGHT 2021. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Logo design by Vanessa Ho

  • About
  • Poetry
  • Prose
  • Criticism
  • Art
  • Interviews
  • Events
  • Submit
    • Placebo