Chad Foret

Winter 2026 | Poetry

Watching The Fly With You

            after Frank O’Hara

  

is even more sad than seeing yellow narcissus so lonely they lose fragments of their faces

in a film about sentient furniture like the fusion of Seth, fly & teleporter pod

partly because in your green shirt you look like a self-portrait of a flower newly in love

partly because Seth lost his likeness, partly because of your faith in hummingbird food

partly because your eyes are plasma pools in which even insects can politic

partly because the last gasp of a nightmare baboon is terrible proof of steak’s poetry

it is hard to pretend when I’m with you that I wasn’t swapped with something better

the moment we met & my original body is off playing with all the other primates

in a heaven for horrors but I’m here now with the secrets only we have seen like

how even emerald envies Bayou Amulet the moon worming over Bunkie

 

& as Brundlefly’s secret face emerges like all the other tragic glaciers calving

in the corners I feel like the final Seth a piece of jaw watching from the floor

                                                                                                                            I buzz

about Breton’s Lark how the woman’s scythe almost sends the sun away eyes stuck

on the scream of a horned bird somewhere in a separate wing of the Art Institute & anyway

I would rather sit with you & watch the fullest tick of all time squirm on the South Wabash

sidewalk or learn how robbers burned the bandages of Sebekemsaf’s consort & wonder

why or whisper in the aisle seat can you hear the corn below calling out to us

between quinoa & wing glint beyond the art all the aspects of earthshine crowding Seurat

the white Christ zeitgeist to all the future tourists touching a piece of airplane

chair like samples of feldspathic breccia & shergottite going where the art is & letting

the umbrellas have their life

                                                        it seems we were not cheated of some excellent sadness

which is Ronnie & Seth going to waste in a warehouse which is telling us how to stay human

 

"Chad Foret is a writer and editor from southeast Louisiana. Recent poetry and fiction appear or are forthcoming in If Memory Serves, a food writing anthology from Good, Printed Things; Action, Spectacle; Fairy Tale Review; Gooseberry Pie Lit Magazine; San Pedro River Review; and other journals and anthologies. He is the author of Scenes from a Rain Country (Lavender Ink, 2022) and Watching Machine (Osmanthus, 2026). Visit www.chadforet.com or follow @chad4a on Instagram for info and updates."

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