THREE Poems /
OYSTERS
& CLOTHES
& INTERIM
Emma MACKILLIGIN
OYSTERS
The first time I ate oysters
was with you & you
watched as I tilted my head
& swallowed the slime
& I laughed at the salt
on my insides
because I like salt & you
laughed too
because I didn’t vomit.
The first time
with you & you
watched as I
swallowed the slime
& laughed at the salt
on my insides
&
laughed
I didn’t vomit.
The time
you
tilted my head
the slime
the salt
my insides
you
laughed
I vomit.
I DON’T KNOW HOW TO CLOTHE
THIS LOVING BODY
*
Since this morning I have lain here
almost naked on your leopard print
avoiding eye contact with appliances.
*
I have so many ideas about the things that I’m not.
*
My body floats somewhere around.
*
People don’t really want to know about it.
*
Why is it that loved ones place so much weight?
*
I blame photos of myself & other women.
*
Is it possible to exchange memory for tightness?
*
When I was small-scale I didn't know how to love.
*
Now I am enormous.
*
It’s easy to forget which parts are temporary.
*
There is nothing I want more.
*
Oh, baby, what should I be aiming at?
*
All I really want is to be admired.
INTERIM
I heard a light bulb
described as a solid piece of light
& all I could think of were the filaments
vibrating
squirrel caged & possessing
some kind of liquidity like that
of this moment in which I'm standing
on this floor & not the one above
searching
for my reflection in the taps & in the light bulbs
as I tilt my chin upwards. Lately
I tend to study limbs
in search of hard lines
& tight angles
to justify a recent fear
of disappearing elbows. I've also taken to biting
that lip between two fingers
& wondering if the flesh
will swallow the joint while I
avoid the full length
& think of how I'd like to own things
like a crocheted swimsuit
& a jar of maraschino cherries.
Emma MACKILLIGIN is a poet and woman.
She lives in London.
She lives in London.