because bathtime will solve everything
stop checking
mail.
your two-faced heart will
break. plunge in the deep
no sign of scales,
tail astray. no
panacea or
daryl hannah locks.
scouse medusa. thoughts
wander. deja-vu
favoured place of prayer
assuage guilt. give thanks.
speak to the dead. you
your two-faced heart will
break. plunge in the deep
no sign of scales,
tail astray. no
panacea or
daryl hannah locks.
scouse medusa. thoughts
wander. deja-vu
favoured place of prayer
assuage guilt. give thanks.
speak to the dead. you
always hear them
laugh. absurdity
of naked hello.
laugh. absurdity
of naked hello.
stripped bare.
heat rising.
the wrong kind of paint.
who and what i am
the wrong kind of paint.
who and what i am
distinctly unsure
if a shaved pussy
will solve anything
if a shaved pussy
will solve anything
diktat
because I love JJB dirty
little basslines. Anthony Kiedis
LA cock-rock and call Bukowski
the man. sapphic porn played out by straight
actresses. having doors opened for
the curves to stumble into street
because I have no record of a
man chatting shit on a cellphone whilst
piercing the veins in my left hand
no explanation for entire hand
highly invasive six weeks post birth
vulnerable. tearful. fit to break.
because I am not branded in name
or mortgage. and fail to fathom
how these words spell out independence
find post-feminism utterly
repulsive. I choose class over clit
and I love pink. red in peroxide.
set your pyre alight with Chuck’s books
and hear me laughing. you can’t drown
me – i’ll float. the river, she loves me.
little basslines. Anthony Kiedis
LA cock-rock and call Bukowski
the man. sapphic porn played out by straight
actresses. having doors opened for
the curves to stumble into street
because I have no record of a
man chatting shit on a cellphone whilst
piercing the veins in my left hand
no explanation for entire hand
highly invasive six weeks post birth
vulnerable. tearful. fit to break.
because I am not branded in name
or mortgage. and fail to fathom
how these words spell out independence
find post-feminism utterly
repulsive. I choose class over clit
and I love pink. red in peroxide.
set your pyre alight with Chuck’s books
and hear me laughing. you can’t drown
me – i’ll float. the river, she loves me.
night fishing
window open and sleeping topless her
thoughts wander, wondering
if she turned sand to glass by
blinking, would she catch a poem
thoughts wander, wondering
if she turned sand to glass by
blinking, would she catch a poem
Sarah Crewe
is 30 and from the Port of Liverpool. She has a chapbook forthcoming
with Erbacce Press. Her work has appeared at Red Fez, The Camel Saloon,
Erbacce, Streetcake, Sunfish and 3:AM. She likes sea air, strong drinks
and
cheap dresses.
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