ELOISE HENDY is a postgraduate student in Creative Writing at The University of Edinburgh. Previously, she was Creative Director of 50GS, an online literary journal, and Editor-in-Chief of The Inkwell magazine. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in adjacent pineapple, Zarf, Ink Sweat & Tears and amberflora. She is currently looking for ways to move various houseplants from Scotland to London. 

 
my heart is not sweet it is hungry

i fill pockets with stones and seashells, force shores
to redraw their lines with me inside them. i have had many
desperate moments. there is no denying the peculiar
knot in my stomach slicing bread in your new apartment.
i fall for emotional absence. i almost lost it completely
by the knife drawer. the blade of my tongue i coat
with honeysuckle and stay bitter. i cover my teeth
with a flurry of cherry blossom, sleep with the lights on.
two petals collapse and i lose track of loving
or loving not. i fall for being stroked all over like a dog.
i am hunted by the feeling of giving everything away
and walking up a downward escalator stuffing
confetti inside my shoes. i tried to be a young bride
only to burst the stomachs of ravening birds.

it’s always lighter at the horizon

i want to say one true thing
like buffalo mozzarella     egg whites

it hurts to look at snowdrops
           or when i get dressed it will be in white silk

but i have always been too fond
of staining my bedsheets       leaving

soiled phantoms strung up
from doorframes      i furl night sweats

into the furrow of my lover’s brow
           or when i get dressed it will be in cut glass

and dream of vessels weighed down
by dust sheets      regurgitating confetti

and mothballs     lace     something blue
there is nothing more beautiful

than dissecting the bones
of my lover’s hands      studying the anatomy

of belonging    i dream of love
and exchange       in open waters

i get salt on my skirts
             or when i get dressed it will be as a swan

on every threshold i fall for false symbols
like astrology     mozzarella

it helps to have distance
           or when i get dressed it will be in my own skin

All works published by the Glasgow Review of Books are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommerical-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License and the journal reserves the right to be named as place of first publication in any citation. Copyright remains with the poet. http://www.glasgowreviewofbooks.com