3/1

Here’s to singing in the quiet. In the all the time. In the company of water. Apologies buried in the coda. With the songs pouring, nothing harmful can enter through your mouth. A passage only for salmon, for friends of jazz, for my fingers. I’ve been seasoning myself for this exact occasion——standing on a cliff over the Dodge dealership. The owner’s in the mafia. His daughter’s in a wheelchair. He gave my friend a deal on her first real car. His friends are expert deep sea sportsmen. Everyone is so different, someone had to invent movies. But it doesn’t feel that way when we talk. Not today. Keep walking. Keep calling your wild fish call, and I’ll dance in your head. Our own prom. Our own after party. An execution-style kiss where eagles drag the living.

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from the Summer 2025 Issue of Pizza (Secret Restaurant Press)

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Matt Boyarsky lives in Philadelphia. His work has appeared in HAD, Juked, Hobart, The Rose Books Hotline, Secret Restaurant, and elsewhere.