Two Poems
Georgia HAIRE
We blame ourselves for a lack of vigilance
It was when we took our rabbit out for a bath,
rolled him over and saw his stomach full of maggots,
that I realised that yes, we had met before.
The way they had made a small black mask of him,
that was you, wasn’t it?
Warning signs
Motherhood isn’t for me, and so I must keep
throwing the infants off the balcony
—but they keep coming, they all know where the door is.
Georgia HAIRE lives in London, where she is completing a PhD on false teeth and oral health in twentieth-century Britain.