From Balconies
While bodies still lie stiff in morgues,
And cannot yet be burned for change,
Their ash cannot blow onto tree roots
Will not feed a dawning age,
But people will get restless
And they’ll sing
From balconies
While governments still hide the facts
With masturbatory façade
Of staying strong and saving face,
With cries of truth and protest barred,
The people will get restless
And they’ll sing
From balconies,
And here,
With empty, barren shelves,
And mugs of English breakfast tea,
And vacant office carparks left
To our optional quarantine,
Our isolation leads to love
And building up communities
And anger gets directed at
Authorities with hands unclean,
When clapping means far less to us
Than taxes spent responsibly,
And we have time to strike and fight,
For those who suffer mercilessly
And all of them will realise
These dead will not be burned unseen
‘Cause people will get restless.
Yes, us people will get restless
They can fight, kill and arrest us
But we’ll scream
From balconies.
Medusa
They didn’t like her dreadlocks
Or the way she wore
Red lipstick
The same colour
As a canine dick
But still refused to smile.
Medusa bared her teeth only to growl.
She held power in the way,
She stressed each syllable,
As though she had no time
To discriminate with words.
She had no time
For those who would
Discriminate with words.
Medusa’s voice was not like summer rain
Daring to be ugly
To be traumatised and strong.
Daring them to face her straight,
Head on.
‘Come on,’
Because they’d only get to try it
Once.
Spider
Spider, don’t build your home on me.
I’m only bathing in the sun.
I came outside to catch some rays.
An hour or so and I’ll be done.
Spider, don’t build your home on me.
Don’t waste your web on fickle skin.
This scaffolding is bound to move.
My world’s too hash for bricks so thin.
Spider, I wish I could lie still
So you could take your time and spin
A dress of sticky, silver silk,
A veil to hide my nose and chin.
But Spides, you’re not the first to try
To weave your permanence on me.
For some they span a web of lies.
For others sheer sincerity.
Spider, don’t build your home on me.
I’m only bathing in the sun.
I came outside to catch some rays.
An hour or so, and I’ll be done.
Bionote
Cathleen Davies is a writer, teacher, and researcher from East Yorkshire, currently completing her Creative Writing PhD at the University of East Anglia. Their work has appeared in various magazines and anthologies including books Queer Life, Queer Love; Love Bites; and The Wire Dream. Their debut collection of short-stories Cheeky, Bloody Articles will be released August '22.
https://linktr.ee/cathleendavieswriter
She held power in the way,
She stressed each syllable,
As though she had no time
To discriminate with words.
She had no time
For those who would
Discriminate with words.
Medusa’s voice was not like summer rain
Daring to be ugly
To be traumatised and strong.
Daring them to face her straight,
Head on.
‘Come on,’
Because they’d only get to try it
Once.
Spider
Spider, don’t build your home on me.
I’m only bathing in the sun.
I came outside to catch some rays.
An hour or so and I’ll be done.
Spider, don’t build your home on me.
Don’t waste your web on fickle skin.
This scaffolding is bound to move.
My world’s too hash for bricks so thin.
Spider, I wish I could lie still
So you could take your time and spin
A dress of sticky, silver silk,
A veil to hide my nose and chin.
But Spides, you’re not the first to try
To weave your permanence on me.
For some they span a web of lies.
For others sheer sincerity.
Spider, don’t build your home on me.
I’m only bathing in the sun.
I came outside to catch some rays.
An hour or so, and I’ll be done.
Bionote
Cathleen Davies is a writer, teacher, and researcher from East Yorkshire, currently completing her Creative Writing PhD at the University of East Anglia. Their work has appeared in various magazines and anthologies including books Queer Life, Queer Love; Love Bites; and The Wire Dream. Their debut collection of short-stories Cheeky, Bloody Articles will be released August '22.
https://linktr.ee/cathleendavieswriter
No comments:
Post a Comment