Two POEMS
Hannah LEVENE
I Dry (Like Blood or Mustard)
I asked you to dress up
in Styrofoam
and you did
because you love me
or was it your idea?
Then I doused you in malt vinegar and it leaked
from the ends from the middles soaked into
no then
out of
and cleared our
noses
acid
warm
water
ice
fishing roller
blades the
imprint of the recycling sign
with a line through it and a sad face
and that toxic
symbol with the dead
fish next to the dead
tree left where the
Styrofoam
pushed into your skin.
I sucked at your mouth like a straw.
Convenience
is so caring sometimes
sweetly by us, preempting
our needs and
Inconvenience
is so righteous
so broad chested
and
chrome
The atmosphere is mostly
Funeral
Waiting in the fish bar
glow
Wish me long life palm oil
dripping from
monkey paws
cute hug from
wild animal
I’m a blob of ketchup on your t shirt
I dry like blood or mustard
I’m a blob of ketchup on your t shirt
I dry like blood or mustard
eating egg and chips
dog hair and carpet
burns sequin
bikini sandwich
toaster egg
slicer fish
fingers just your
biggest
t-shirt inside
out and back
to front and
nothing
underneath
in Styrofoam
and you did
because you love me
or was it your idea?
Then I doused you in malt vinegar and it leaked
from the ends from the middles soaked into
no then
out of
and cleared our
noses
acid
warm
water
ice
fishing roller
blades the
imprint of the recycling sign
with a line through it and a sad face
and that toxic
symbol with the dead
fish next to the dead
tree left where the
Styrofoam
pushed into your skin.
I sucked at your mouth like a straw.
Convenience
is so caring sometimes
sweetly by us, preempting
our needs and
Inconvenience
is so righteous
so broad chested
and
chrome
The atmosphere is mostly
Funeral
Waiting in the fish bar
glow
Wish me long life palm oil
dripping from
monkey paws
cute hug from
wild animal
I’m a blob of ketchup on your t shirt
I dry like blood or mustard
I’m a blob of ketchup on your t shirt
I dry like blood or mustard
eating egg and chips
dog hair and carpet
burns sequin
bikini sandwich
toaster egg
slicer fish
fingers just your
biggest
t-shirt inside
out and back
to front and
nothing
underneath
Golden Cocker Spaniels
And on the horizon
Golden cocker spaniels
Rolling in fox piss.
You hold your wine
Close to your body
To warm it up
Hoping
It’ll do to you later
What you’re doing to it now.
The branding is a gherkin
In a tutu and a
Peanut in a top hat
and a Bloodhound
Smoking.
Keep
Asking or Answering mmm and arrr
Tell you
About my family
Mum and dad.
We’ve been similar
We’ve worn similar
Shirts eaten similar foods
As kids
As kids
And so many things are fine,
The supermarket floor
The invention of pebbledash
Needleblasting
Branding off a
Biscuit packet picture of a
Biscuit
Staring at itself in the bathroom
Mirror, one hand on his toothbrush
And the other on his
Toothpaste and the tap’s
On.
It’s always been horrible.
But the cocker spaniels
Abound,
Golden
In the fragrant fields
Meadow flowers brown
Unbuildable land
Where turtles
Will live
When we’re dead. And
On the horizon,
All the bugs are having dinner
Together
Touching
Glasses holding
Each other’s
Shoulders, cheeks.
Candles glint in the dinner light.
Clinks and the other sweet noises
Of all the things
We left behind.
Golden cocker spaniels
Rolling in fox piss.
You hold your wine
Close to your body
To warm it up
Hoping
It’ll do to you later
What you’re doing to it now.
The branding is a gherkin
In a tutu and a
Peanut in a top hat
and a Bloodhound
Smoking.
Keep
Asking or Answering mmm and arrr
Tell you
About my family
Mum and dad.
We’ve been similar
We’ve worn similar
Shirts eaten similar foods
As kids
As kids
And so many things are fine,
The supermarket floor
The invention of pebbledash
Needleblasting
Branding off a
Biscuit packet picture of a
Biscuit
Staring at itself in the bathroom
Mirror, one hand on his toothbrush
And the other on his
Toothpaste and the tap’s
On.
It’s always been horrible.
But the cocker spaniels
Abound,
Golden
In the fragrant fields
Meadow flowers brown
Unbuildable land
Where turtles
Will live
When we’re dead. And
On the horizon,
All the bugs are having dinner
Together
Touching
Glasses holding
Each other’s
Shoulders, cheeks.
Candles glint in the dinner light.
Clinks and the other sweet noises
Of all the things
We left behind.
Hannah LEVENE is a poet, currently undertaking PhD research in Creative Writing at Roehampton University (looking at tenderness, butchness and innovative fiction). Their first poetry collection Boneless Ribs was published with Lost Alphabet in January 2018. Its focus—which persists—was/is girls, the workaday, breakfast, lunch and dinner.