Cold Comfort
Jessica Lovejoy
September 15th, 2025
I prefer cold pizza
and even colder coffee.
When I crave a slice,
I wake up too early
lifting square slabs from its box
dough gone to clay,
sauce-stained,
sealed beneath provolone gone to wax,
and a film of frost.
Crust breaks--
Between my teeth.
I crack open a can of brew that’s too bitter,
watch ice sweat on the aluminum
as I chew yesterday’s crust,
its salt gnaws my gums numb.
Like the leftovers we hold on to,
sometimes the stale things left behind
go down easier
than swallowing what’s fresh and burning.
Jessica Lovejoy writes from the Midwest, where she finds poetry in leftover meals. Her skeets, several which do involve cold pizza, live at
@jlovejoy.bsky.social.
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