Poetry

After School

god decided this when he spun
earth on its axis, scrawled inside
a chromosome he spelt out
my face, the lacking, he spelt out
the uselessness of every limb
eyes settle on me like flies, god
intended this. 

you pin me.
my white blonde hair that yesterday
danced across your face,
was held in spiralling whorls
like a baby, like something
breakable, is tangled in your sweating fist.

[after] pick the brittle bits
of me which stick in fragments on
your hot tireless tongue sick to your
bones with what you have done and [later]
smears dregs of childish snot
across my holy skin, cry: god god god

Catey Scullion