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An excerpt from

Pineapples In The Pool

Melissa J. Davies

My Geriatric Vagina

I'm thirty four and a third
and I am told,
that if I want to have a child
I have to do so soon because
after thirty five
pregnancy is not a normal pregnancy
but a geriatric pregnancy
I expect that in eight months
my vagina will shrivel
and become an old lady
separated from the rest of my body
by a slice of grey
it will start to knit
and bake scones
it will call younger people
dearie
and offer unsolicited life advice
and start shouting at cheese 

my vagina will need its own
distress button
in case it has a fall
because it's been moved into a
care facility and forgotten about
because who cares about old people
let alone a geriatric vagina 

 

rotting comfort

we lie together
him and me
in a bed made of
rotting comfort 

the pillows
are bundles of
twigs and leaves
that drag my hair 

the quilt is
piles of moss
knitted together
with desperate pleasure 

with desperate pleasure
knitted together
piles of moss
the quilt 

drags my hair
twigs and leaves
are bundles of
pillows 

in rotting comfort
our bed is made
we lie together
him and me 

 

A short poem dedicated to Dev Patel

I tried to write a poem
full of meaning and
important things
about the way the world
feels to me,
the sorrow and the lies
instead I find myself
staring into space
thinking of the gentle kindness
hidden in Dev's handsome eyes

 

my heart breaks a little each time 

each time a man with a gun
or a knife
or a car
decides his cause or belief
is more important than
the lives of others
I scroll passed the images of destruction
passed the blame and anger
passed the pointing fingers and the hate
I scroll until I can find the kindness
the help
the hope
anything that stops the once solid ground
shaking beneath my feet