Jameson Fitzpatrick


It’s time again to plaster the digital streets with Broadside Thirty, our showcase of poems in thirty lines or less by poets thirty or younger. This installment features Jameson Fitzpatrick.




at the window

throwing the keys down

in the doorway

in black athletic shorts

legs the same shape

as yours but

thicker with hair

the curls on his neck

still wet from his run

salt on my tongue

and he has been waiting for me

at the window, Hector

throwing me down

on the bed on top of me

pulling his shorts down

past the dark shock of his sex

no gray anywhere

and nothing soft about him

except how much

he looks like you

in your first author photo

twenty-five years ago


Jameson Fitzpatrick holds a BA and an MFA from New York University, where he now teaches in the Expository Writing Program. His poems have appeared in The American Reader, The Awl, The Literary Review, and Poetry, among elsewhere; he is also the author of a chapbook, Morrisroe: Erasures (89plus/LUMA Publications), which comprises 24 erasures of a single text by the artist Mark Morrisroe.