17:37
Elizabeth Corrall
Survival
My body was a shape shifter A cruel stranger that obscured, contorted and twisted transforming from ghostly thin to suddenly twice the size a wobbling mess of flesh Hours upon hour spent gazing into unforgiving mirrors Blotchy critical eyes, painting […]
Faint
I. We pricked our fat, pink fingers, bonded by blood. Still, I search for signs of sisterhood, for white-line ladies who white lie like I. Who grew tired of waiting to shrink away again, who sink in girlhood’s shallow end, […]
Home
I moved three times in the last year. My preconceptions of what a “home” is meant to be seemed to dissolve the longer I spent living on my own. Searching for a sense of home felt like aiming for a […]
Blunted Life’s Edge
Verse 1 Away, with the needless self-hate Whose disdained, grievous face oft embraced On a daily basis, the soft plains of My mind frame; it’s okay, to have weight I satiate myself, With this usefully, uncrude food, for thought That […]
1,2,3,4
I have four homes; constantly in migration and always lost in translation between. Each pulls from me a different colour, each equal, each silk, each frayed and lost and rebuilt, regrowing. My post falls through the same door I walked […]
Girls in Clubs
I thought we were more than just girls in clubs A pastel pink cigarette I stole from your lips Payment of my candied kiss, blown into smoke curls and pools A picture of want Want, need The feeling a penny […]
Milk and Honey
I was not made to be a waitress. To carry plates and pull pints and count coins and be able to breathe at the same time. I should have given up. Four years in and my boss was still telling […]
You Came Out Screaming And Alive And Look At You Now
In Olivia Gatwood’s poem Ode To My Bitch Face she says “you came out screaming and alive and look at you now!” But I was born blue lifeless and choking, a chord around my neck. When you ask me about […]