Class of 2023

Sunday —

Drawling of the fan,

shoes on the floor (bear on the floor),

the mirage of teeth falling out

while eye bags are pulled hellwards,

the enthralling siren in the clock

clasping my fingers with hers,

feeding rope into violet lights —

Friday —

— green on green,

the stamping of heels and throwing

shoulders up to the deity,

does she want to be one of us?

A swill of cranberry juice and 

bejewelled fingers

enticing into bliss

and will this ever change?

Saturday —

Glittering hymns circling above her

bed of moss like a halo,

a shaking in the night — divinely violent,

will she ever feel so close again?

The golden spells of yesterday giving

rope burn,

“and again —

and again,” she says. Sadie is a literature student who explores gender, neurodivergence, bodies, and spaces around her.