If I were to talk of bellies and sex to people I hardly knew
you’d tell me to grow up
It’s different for parents
Thirty-two members strong, you are the Night feeds
the witness of the goddess
in the watches of the night
I put the emojis after the name
First the stars
First the stars
then teated bottle offered to the sky
then yellow cratered moon
that smiles but stops short
of true benevolence
Cracked nipples, splintered insides
Is this colour of poo normal?
I’m showering as a treat
Bliss
Is this colour of poo normal?
I’m showering as a treat
Bliss
You wouldn’t even have been
friends with them at school
Grow up
Amy is pregnant with her second, without trying,
but swore she was one and done
Amy is pregnant with her second, without trying,
but swore she was one and done
Amanda wants another but every month
just cherryskins
so her grief weighs on
just cherryskins
so her grief weighs on
Angharad, her cycle a sea anemone
She left the group, to face
the night alone
now no-one’s talking
the night alone
now no-one’s talking
It’s as if there is a woman
a sleek and deathless phantom thirty-third
long as a dachshund,
juicy as a frankfurter
Her litter all around her
feeding
she smiles
feeding
she smiles
like the moon does
it’s easy for her
all this
all this
easy for her to feed on you
