Hope Loveday

WHAT HAVE I DONE?
Pull me by a leash
I’ll let my stomach ache
Suck it out of me
intravenously
Go to bed angry, don’t speak to me
I won’t blink, I’ll just look
You give me knives and I’ll take
I’ll cut onions until they’re gone
Knuckle by knuckle then, don’t stop
Watch me quietly. It doesn’t hurt me
I’ll step on that nail you put on the ground
Let me bleed out
Tell me to think about death
or half-miracles, a bird with broken wings
Hand to my ear, I’ll listen with a tear
I’ll count every raindrop
then I’ll draw no breath
Tell me what you need
but don’t pull the hair covering my face
as I cry at your feet, bruises on my knees
I’ll be a splint
holding together what I’ve broken
The cracks on your face
I’ll stick together with paste
made of my spit and sweat and skin
Call me anything you’d like
but if it’s ‘good’, you’ll find my hands at your throat
You’ll hear me beg for it not to be
until you’re blue, I’m through
What have I done?
EMPTY NEST
Impenitent killer
Pupils showing the first star
Reflecting, deathly, the hunt
Crossing the yard; left eye scarred
Bandit creature, a fiend
Angel thing, a friend
The silken fur grazes the earth
Hatched eggs wait, sticks break
The killer is made of cotton wool
Soaked in love and praise
Yet under the moon things change
Tail of a snake, claws wanting to take
It’s dinner time and the bowl is full
Soon purring on its mother’s chest
After she cleans up the mess
Redeemed from a bloody heist, it’s too enticed
Like the last blooming tree
The nest is alone, unarmed, bare
With two flicks of the rump the predator is there
It’s inexorable, yet the killer’s adorable
Feathery feline, the corpse corrupt
Hung modestly from the mouth
Like a kitten toy
A different mother calls, it’s baby bawls
The home is warm and welcomes
The remains placed in its favourite room
White neck spotted like blurry vision
Now resting by the fire; a deviant’s desire
Author: Hope is an aspiring writer who loves to explore what it means to be human and experiment with new formats and genres. She’s currently working on a collection of short stories about growing up as a female in a man’s world.
Artist: Steph Blinco is a third year Bachelor of Fine Arts student. A local Brisbane emerging artist, her practice makes statements about everyday life through collaged imagery. Intertwining psychedelic patterns to create collisions of colour and era, Steph draws influences from autobiographical contexts, ranging from her childhood to her experiences now as a young adult. You can find her on Instagram @stephblincoart.