Villa
Stretch your denim over my mouth – it’s
Always less than I need –
Suffocate in my dreams of
The rafters, a slanted cushion,
Your waist band, a
Trembling.
Strobe light of golden
Water – wash me away,
Down the drain of vomit,
Clarins, clean mint,
Blood, smuggled vodka,
A premonition, cracked teeth -
That’s where I’ll be
Details
Milk in my decaf coffee blooms
Like white rabbit tulips -
I stare but I am
Disinvited once again -
Pour me out, go to sleep,
Wake up, let it fade away –
The knots are slipping across
Pen on my wrist like eighth grade –
Take a sip, inhale,
It’s never what it seems
Feather
Rift, twist, spin
Waste away. I’ve been
Dying since
Puberty. Imagine that,
A rotting bulb in spring,
Infectious necrosis turning
Pistils purple. Plan a
Future to trick myself,
Like stepping in the bear trap
I set with my father in his
Favorite hunting spot.
Our dog pointed to pheasant –
He shot.
Sweet beast, traitor to his
Animism, rusted, golden,
Damp, brown-eyed
Bloody. A pure love of death.
Death he facilitated,
Death shot inside me –
Haunted from the beginning,
Body never once my own
Knitting
I write to weave –
Wrap sounds around my sweaty palms
Like skeins of wool –
I knit myself a
Sweater of the glorious space around me -
To hold it in
To feel it all
Lilian McCarthy (she/they) is a disabled, queer, nonbinary woman who lives in Boston, MA and Dublin, Ireland. She is a Masters candidate in Comparative Literature at Trinity College Dublin. She enjoys fabric arts, painting, playing with animals, writing, and translating French and Italian work.
Lilian works primarily in free verse and short fiction. Her writing attempts to capture how it feels to exist in her disabled and queer body. She has been published in The Gay and Lesbian Review Worldwide, Fence, Matter Press: Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, Ricochet Review, and others.