One Hundred and Eighty-Six.


Izzy circle


if periods were a superpower

she spilled onto the pavement, an unstoppable deluge
‘slut, you fucken dumb slut, I’ll kill you’
shaking the powerlines, scattering pigeons
he had asked for a cigarette
he had asked the market value
he had asked for the box prize and sugar milk cereal
‘fancy some early morning sex?’
he had told her she did not belong to herself
he had told her it was sex or seething spite
he had stripped her to the ribs like meat
‘no, fuck off. NO. FUCK.’
all he could call her for denying him
and the torrent poured, raging, out of her
he slipped on slick concrete
shining wet and red under skittering feet
his mouth pulled into and ‘o’ with an underbite
gubbling in the mire, sucking air through his teeth
shrilling a backwards gurgled wolf-whistle
his eyes pooling in the shock of it
bathing in her crimson flow
he was right, she wasn’t human
she was superhuman
and the hate in his veins burst
as he gasped his last
and she strode away, dripping.
they closed the street with yellow caution tape
for weeks they scrubbed
in hazmat suits, down on their knees
but it’s still stained red and raw.


Sarah circle


I have made me a home built of laptop cord and underwear
swathed in sick yellow sandals and a thousand bobby pins
come to see the world



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