So it’s like you are the perfect dusk I recall
in childhood the motes of glowing midges
it’s like the lake alive it’s like I can’t live in
these moments with my skin always fizzing
something to love I suppose it’s enough
when you cough when you are peeling a
lozenge from sticky rolls of your thought
at junctions supposing we melted the paper
I think you are an atlas where juice oozes
sweet in the middle the medicinal forever
in tact I might roll you smooth with my tongue
when a line gets too long you can take the
snip of your teeth it’s easy it’s human all too
human she likes that dumb song about dancers
that forgets the logic of plural & I miss nothing
of my own loneliness gurning the day into
thirds as if that were blue & acceptable.
Maria Sledmere is a writer and Gemini living in Glasgow. She edits poetry zines Gilded Dirt and SPAM, and contributes regularly to music blogs GoldFlakePaint and Ravechild. Her debut pamphlet, Existential Stationary, is forthcoming via SPAM Press. Recently she collaborated on a multiplatform installation with producer Lanark Artefax. Find her in Adjacent Pineapple, Amberflora, E-ratio, Erotoplasty, From Glasgow to Saturn, Occulum, Sawney Lit and Numéro Cinq. She tweets @mariaxrose.
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