Jadine Eagle

 

 

 

Bluebottles

 

“I’m earning my keep”

fussing over teapots

plates of biscuits, iced

with pointed remarks

 

No one asked you to

 

I open a door in my chest

coax out the jackdaw, who sleeps

in my left ventricle

hops onto my palm and coughs

up the shiny, quivering

with each new breath

Damp and sticky with blood

like a newborn

 

You stamp on every one of them

“Can’t have dreams around here

Can’t feel anything

you’ll enjoy it too much”

Stood behind me you utter diamonds

set in tombstones, unmovable

in your perfection

Each word embedded like barbs

 

My mind buzzing, resurrecting

memories like persistent, fat

bluebottles, spiralling

as I bat them away

scared to squash them entirely

in fear of the mess they might make

 

Biting my tongue leaves it bloody

and shredded, no birds to sing my truth

the nest bare, dead and leaden

“You can talk to me” you say, wanting

another chance to proffer advice

I crumble away your offerings

having barely touched my eyes

 

 

 

Jadine Eagle eats way too much cake and recently won the Sarah Smith Poetry Competition.

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