izzy

‘I am a sex atheist’, he said
looking at my chest
his hand strangling a can of PBR

‘this is not America’, he said
eyes squinting a hint
his glasses need fixing

I am still not sure what he meant
does he not believe in sex?
as in fucking or our body pieces?

maybe this is a man who just wants
no religion, no morals and just
pure, unadulterated body slapping but

right now
I am going to put my two fingers
in the small of your back
like a gun

and you will do what I say
and you will know what I mean
even though you know
my hands are my only weapons

*

sarah

Mayday mayday mayday
This is Her Majesty’s naval observance outpost, Dover.
Does anyone copy?
Hello? Please, someone reply
I don’t know how this machine works
If anyone can hear me, please copy
My name is Alan
I’m not even in the navy
I’m just the cleaner
Nobody’s here
They all left an hour ago
And I don’t think they’re coming back
Oh please, help
Please, somebody come in
It’s what we all feared
Just like in the papers
Big cruise ship came in
Shooting straight for the beach
They tried hailing it
Tried every channel there was
Pushed all the buttons
More buttons than I’ve ever seen em push
I stood with my mop
Watched em all turn red
And this ship just kept coming
Ran aground. Sand whining against steel
4000 tonnes pushing up onto that groaning coast
Men up here shouting, arms waving about
We’ll go sort this out, they said
Every last one
Been quiet up here of late. Routine, you know
Gets to everyone in the end
So they all poured out like a plug had been pulled
And here I am, standing in a puddle of mop water
In an empty station, nothing but blinking lights
Watching out the windows, silent, like an old film
And I see em reach the ship
It’s all wonky, drunk-like
And they stand there with megaphones and shout things I can’t see
And there’s this stillness
The old grey hulk of a ship
And these lines of rigid grey men
And the steel grey sea
All holding their breath
And then this shriek sounds in our speakers
It’s the emergency sirens
Haven’t been used since the war
Bomb announcements, all that
And they’re letting out this horrid squeal
And this noise
Like millions of people stood around in the cold
And all chattered their teeth together
And then I hear it closer
Like it’s in here
Like it’s right in here
And then the floor is surging like waves
And I’m up on a table before I know
And all I can hear is this rush of teeth and nails and screeching
And I look at the floor and it’s rats
Rats everywhere. Hundreds. Thousands.
Can’t see the lino for their bodies
And the noise like a million crickets
They’re screaming past all in the one direction
Tails like worms and this screaming screaming
And then they’re gone. Not a breath of wind.
And I clamber down and look out the window
And the world is gone mad
Every bit of the earth, every scrap of sand or grass or bitumen
Every single thing there is is grey and heaving
And it’s rats. Billions and billions
Piss-bolting onto the sand
Piss-bolting towards that old boat
These white cliffs all dark and churning
And those boys in their uniforms are swamped
Flailing and holding their mouths in big Os
And those rats just keep running
And then they all stop dead. Not a patch of earth anywhere
And I think all the rats in Britain must be on this beach
And every tiny black eye is trained on that goddamn boat
Even our boys have turned to look at it
And then.
And then.
There’s a shift on the deck. A shudder.
And I think to myself, it’s a huge old mop
Must be bigger than a car
A tank
Why’d anyone make one that big
And it’s rolling and roiling
And then one huge clawed foot slams up on the railing
And it’s not a mop
It’s not a mop
It’s a rat
It’s a rat
It’s a fucking giant fucking rat
And it’s half the ship
And it’s rolling its head back
And this maw of its mouth opens
And even from here
I can hear the scream
And it’s picked up by those billion mouths on the beach
And they scream
And they scream
And they’re turning
And they’re running
And they’re screaming
And the rats
And the rats
And the rats

*

izzy

the ocean’s in the walls again
thin windows pulling in the cold
cobbled streets scream out
drunk lyrics and shivering flesh

these hands like shovels,
trying to shift this bag of blood
and bones – up and out
into the slap of frigid air

*

sarah

She sat at her grandmother’s dining table
With an omelette for one and a jam jar of daisies
Stared at the seven spare seats round the rim
Pictured them filled with a riot of sons
And a dog for good measure, snuffling at their knees.
Later, standing half-dressed in the bathroom,
Listening to the whistle of the cistern refilling
And the rain waging soft wet war on the walls
She fingered the skin where her stomach met undies
And imagined the scars from a life full of love
Skating madly like bridges from her back to her thighs
Pulling her apart, holding her in.

*

izzy

lips unfurling like smoke
dissipating just as fast

bass rattles the ancient stained glass
and the floor ebbs, strikes,
pulls us underground

our bodies are burning up
it’s just so hard to breathe

*

sarah

Finding occasion to dig into my palm
In order to extract an errant splinter
And having an evening of uninterrupted leisure
I took the opportunity to keep digging
And I’m here to tell you that we’ve been lied to
Dig though you may, you’ll never make it to China.
Botswana, on the other hand, sends its regards.

*

izzy

notice the way the guitarist’s feet
fold over each other,
hold each other

‘feelin’ good’ in a French accent
at an open mic under the stairs
trying not to care about the cold

looking stoic, seeing double, there are
matching mugs, new clothes
a spare towel and so
much
space
in this bed

a bent cigarette on the table
Robin is singing ‘somewhere over the rainbow’
and the walls drip
and someone sighs.

*

sarah

My lips are cracking at the corners
For want of your kisses.

*

izzy

I slept for days
my hand in the radiator
my head out the window

there is a cannon-hole
in my chest
I don’t know what to do with it –
keep small birds in it?
plant flowers in it,
mow the lawns on the fringes?

I think I will charge small children
50p to look through it
and tell me what’s on the other side

*

sarah

Driving through a night haze along King’s Way
I emerged into chaos as profiteroles of flame
Puffed themselves, hissing, to flank my car
Heat settling on my knee like a stray cat.
Shattered into the present, I watched my rearview mirror
As golden light licked the casino and bloomed in the river
And I thought how stunning Dresden must have looked
As it burned.

*

izzy

IKEA as a form of torture
people sitting in their cars drinking warm beverages
watching some kind of movement class
across the street from my window
feeling like a pervert
but knowing that really they are probably the perverts
if they can see me sitting alone in my room
drinking beer
and listening to Radiohead
and wanting to smash this desk to pieces
but not doing it because I know I need it to write
I owe it to myself
I owe it to these pieces of wood
I owe it to the people I miss

walking up the hill dragging bags
of bodies
warm fed bodies
from Tesco
there is an aggressive huffing noise
right behind my ear
this woman is running and it’s like
she doesn’t know how to breathe anymore
listening to her,
I lose my footing,
I forget how to breathe too
what happens to all this unloved IKEA furniture
at the end
all these bent screwdrivers?

*

sarah

So I’m sitting on my bed in the sunshine
Wind playing across my face, idyllic as shit
There’s a primary school across the road
And the children are laughing and laughing
And screaming. Actually, if I’m to be perfectly honest
It’s more screaming than anything
In fact – Jesus, that kid sounds like he’s being tortured
Is that kid being tortured?
God, those cries are bone chilling
But hey, the flowers are sighing outside my window, and –
Yap. Yap. Yap. Yap.
Yapyapyapyapyapyap.
Some tiny bootscrape of a dog is tied to a fence
And it sounds like it’s trying to set the world record
For most individual barks per second
It kind of sounds like – now, this isn’t PC
And I know how this comes across.
But I tell you truly:
The dog sounds like it’s being fucked.
Hard.
Yapyapyapyapyapyapyap.
I’ve definitely heard women in porn who sound like that dog.
And the kids are still screaming
Like glass is being ground into their eyes
Surely the dog has to cum soon
Surely the kids have to die soon
All this barking and wailing and screeching and sobbing
The whole street sounds like a messed up snuff film
Fuck this. I’m nailing that window shut.

*

izzy

sitting at IKEA tasting meat balls
I look around, take it in,
appraise it

I see a kid carrying soft drink
I think ‘this kid’s got a really big head’
and he does, it’s fucking huge

last night I turned into a wave
heavy and huge and
sparkling with phosphorescence

tumbling forward with a terrible kind of force

*

sarah

Splayed out on this groaning bed
I breathe in deep that old-sock smell
And imagine it’s the ocean
Squint at the sprays of mould on the white plaster ceiling
Inverted, they could almost be the stars

*

izzy

vogue says hello
photoshop’s on the phone

I don’t know how to feel
I don’t know how to be

but my cheekbones look
amazing

cold fists on the pavement
fire crackling on these lips

what can you say that will cut me down
how will I remember this?

*

sarah

Today’s investment tip, from me to you:
3D printers. You’ve seen them on the news.
We’re all just carbon,
And with a blueprint in hand and a nozzle or two
You could plug one right in tomorrow
Watch layers and layers of wriggling matter
Become a steak
A gun
A stent
A shoe
A Porsche convertible
A signed copy of the Mona Lisa
A trip to Majorca, right in your backyard
A new house
A new car
A new dog
A new child
A new planet
A new hope
A new day
A new you
Forget your weekly lottery failures!
Sell your shares!
Buy big, my friend!
The future is yours to hold!

*

izzy

I’ve killed like 10 animals now
with my teeth
wrapped in their pelts
I still can’t get warm

a fleet of children go by
in high vis and wellies

and look,
look
I’m still here
standing here with my hands and teeth
all bloody

I’ve realised the only way to stay warm here
is not to stand still

*

sarah

Dusty face pressed into this slap-hot road
With the swelling sea sky spitting onto my cheek
And the wind sighing across me
I can feel it beginning
To blow me away
L i k e   s   a   n   d

*

izzy

pull this cloud around you
like a cloak
cling to it
croon to it

you can’t have a fever
when it’s this cold outside
biting fingers, breathing fog
keep your hands to yourself

you can’t have a fever
try telling anyone
why your head is so hot
when it’s 0 degrees on the street

*

sarah

Alright, bitch.
You chose the time,
I’m choosing the weapon:
Tattoo guns.
You heard me.
So you’ve gotta ask yourself one question:
Where do you want that dick and balls?

*