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Literature Text
who knows what this body holds?
sometimes I feel as though
if I could open up my chest
and pour myself onto the ground
my blood might run thick
to the four corners of the world
drowning everything
blending everything together
all the colors into crimson
and somewhere in the mix
you would be there
and in the middle of it all
you would know at last
your name
in every heartbeat
sometimes I feel as though
if I could open up my chest
and pour myself onto the ground
my blood might run thick
to the four corners of the world
drowning everything
blending everything together
all the colors into crimson
and somewhere in the mix
you would be there
and in the middle of it all
you would know at last
your name
in every heartbeat
Literature
exhibit.
Nanny thinks the carpet is too soft
to be my torturecage
and the sofa and endtables are poor
jailbars, but we
are feline and we're too tough to care
bigsister and littlesister are lioncubs today
baby lionesses, authentically,
we even lap milk from
ceramic bowls, bellies swollen from
the orders we give: 'emily, you're the
zookeeper.
Get us more milk.'
She hates serving us, she's only four
but she's getting strong and someday
she'll earn predator status.
(give thanks that we do not consume you, emily,
your fingers peek through the cagebars and
they are white and young and blood
is sweeter than breastmilk)
Roar. We are learni
Literature
Love Isn't Chasing Rainbows
we wouldn't be dreamers, big schemers,
with go-nowhere jobs, nine-to-five.
no saving face, morning after regrets,
and what was his name agains.
we'd be euchre in the café
with men who had seen it all
before. salt plains, burma forests,
atoll islands and elephants at the zoo.
a car park wedding and a shotgun
house. make up chasers are
for the suburban dream –
who wants kids anyway?
I'd finish my degree, want
to work far, far away and
you'd agree to follow me
to the edge of the world,
but no further because
heights still won't be your
thing. in lust for all days;
we would have the world.
just say –
[yes]
Literature
From Whence She Came
Back down to the sea-floor she goes
back to the coracle-clusters and starfish that
clamour, cling to her heart too tight,
walking barefoot towards where she
came from. It is too hard walking on
earth, the way she wears pain like a wedding ring
frightens people.
Back down, down, crawling on her belly
on the forest-floor, alive with the buzz and crawl
of worms and bird-prey. Back where she belongs with her
crazy palpitating wolf-heart, her bloody
deer-throat leaking in the snow, her yellow
eyes in the dark.
Back down, beyond subway trains, piano lessons,
falling rain, from whence she came, to the snow-covered womb
where she fir
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Your writing is brilliant 