Naomi Morris
FAKING REVENGE
it takes 2 to tango it takes
2 to but it doesn’t because
this is what it was like waiting for you
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it takes 2 to bathe though
you remained so dry so ecological
so puffed up with grains
grown from your own greenhouse
that do nothing but make my belly
bloat and dome like a pregnancy
that i thought about faking i thought about
faking our little baby just to frighten you
fuck i wish i could say that your
skin peeled with the injustice of it
like carrot gratings like shredded
pieces of (no more) page 3
like soiled petals of plants that
smell like the bin collection shedding
seeds on passersby who pad them
to distant car parks and i wish
that you fell away into a pile
once you climbed out of my bathtub
i squeezed your little selves into the toilet bowl
i pushed until i had no more cause
what would be better than you leaving me for yourself
was if all my intestines ovary IUD appendix liver
nicotinelactoseglutensugar could be flushed gone
CASING MYSELF
I stroke my solitude
like burgundy velvet it sings
to me I am 100 in 1
I am the organ in a 70s song
I lift my skirt up
it is the netting of cheap ballerinas
itching like grids
like hair growing back in bits
I stroke my honey lemon
menthol with my tongue
the smog of seclusion
clinking off my molars
like compiling a list
I leave me to me
gliding like a cruise liner
through the hours of this
through the hours of this
Naomi Morris is studying for her Creative Writing MSc at University of Edinburgh. She is Editor-in-Chief of 50GS, an online journal run by Masters students.