- SPONSORED -
So there’s me, sprawled across the bed
eating bits of biscuit like Bacchus,
and you, half out of a suit,
looking at me as if I’m street-art
you scraped off a wall on the way home.
Wine-red dress spilt on the floor,
so drunk we pulled the mattress from the bed
and crushed a packet of biscuits.
And while you pondered how it was
that I had come so violently to life
at four in the morning, I asked for a story,
so you told me about your pet rabbit from your childhood
who ate so much she made herself sick.
Claudia Jardine is going into her fourth year of study at Victoria, with majors in Books and Older Books. Her work has appeared in Starling, Mimicry, The Spinoff, and Salient. Did you know that sparrows can activate motion sensor doors?
Mimicry, the arts and literature journal in which this poem appears, is holding a reading of poetry and short fiction this Friday, 12.30pm at VicBooks. Readers include Claudia Jardine, Sam Irwin, Henrietta Bollinger, Sebastian Morgan-Lynch, Jayne Mulligan, and Jake Arthur. All welcome.