Eleanor Fuentez

Content Warning: Slurs, sexual/domestic violence

christina on her hill

refusing to die—

like Sisyphus

blind and drunk and motionless—propellance

the delative grey sky

and feral grasses

covering your wasting body

blonde to green to black

as estuary algae—or—moth-eaten

pink cotton

under sun and moonless

avoidance of light

slow crawl—elevations of Dover—descendence

as Gloucester and Poor Tom

body—your wasting—covering

desaturated earth

farmhouse wood-shacks and wintered


the rye seed

crushed under nails as Sisyphus

my poor sister


framed—and i gaze—and i paint

our national sin

motionless—beyond canvas, a meek, a mere




hello god

horizontal body

on field—not

intimate but  divisible

desire’s washing hush

dew wet

every cell pollen, every speck

of dirt

at once


i only heard the asthmatic


wheeze of your boots

on the wind


gasp, after gasp

echoed in the back of a rust

-washed pickup


when i inhale

i can still taste the utah

salt-flat, under your palm

your footprints


in sand. smell the motor-

oil sweetness of nicotine


under your tongue

you cannot spit out 


these bullets, rigid, lodged in each lung. 


you tell me

you cannot speak english,


but outside this room, by payphone, i know 

you call her baby

so i am prostrate 


highway scouted

for motel chain, toilet-block, cheap-skate


each month passes, and i endure your absence


swollen inside me

not biological, impossible

but to dream

to be that fat cow you covet

all heavy with seed


in a faraway country, i see, you return on your stallion


centaur. my back bearing

your weight 

the black-glass of the milky way

always, always threatening

to break. my cowboy,


riding into sunset:

we exchanged glances as well-trained actors

on stage; tomorrow, he’ll disappear

in one take.

Author: Eleanor Fuentez writes poetry, prose, essays and songs. Her work is focused on human language, on transcendental philosophies, and on the meaning of life. She is also very, very pretentious. Eleanor studies Western Civilisation, though is planning on pursuing a career in medicine. If her work does one thing, she hopes it heals.

Artist: SaBelle Pobjoy-Sherriff is a third year fine arts visual arts student. Her art practice uses narrative and mythology to create obscure illustrations and sculptures. Using acrylic paint and coloured pencils she creates vibrant worlds and creatures. Her current work focuses on the current climate crisis and the idea of corrupting escapism. You can find more on her Instagram @SaBelleeee.

Editors: Willow Ward and  Hannah Vesey