prayer warbles all day beneath our birdcage because
one of the budgies is always pretending to be a landline
the only palm reader i know has never taken her jewellery
off because the skin of her fingers folded the wedding ring in
i have nothing to say but it is to you that i want to say this nothing
i am overusing the word light i am inventing dreams
to sound more interesting i am folding into myself
like the night i am turning and turning like milk
unforgivably sour once i sat down with a biro in each
of my back pockets & had twin red and blue stains holding
my jeans to my hips on the way home like palms smeared
with diagram blood in a biology textbook last night i
dreamt we were in the mcdonald’s bathroom you drank
light straight from the soap dispenser into your hands
i have nothing to say to you but the only palm reader
i know told me to paint my nails more often sometimes
she holds my face up to hers and swears she embroidered
every hair of my eyebrows in place with a needle
last night i dreamt i answered the telephone with my eyes
closed and instead of your static hello? hello? i was being
led through plants and leaves have i told you about
the morning i woke up with shards of biro plastic in my mouth
like glass you told me you had nothing to say
the only palm reader i know once slapped me across the face ∎
Words by Cia Mangat. Artwork by Millie Dean-Lewis.
