from THE MOAN WILDS

Caroline Rayner

Shut the porch when I go out and ruin another fucking dress. Gravel this time. What does
magnolia have to do with it. What does mimosa.

I know the radio will spoil the mood because it always does. Blame a certain kind of midnight,
truth is that I have to use my hands. Salt got everywhere including the bed. And the garden. And
the plate I heaved against the wall. No need to forgive, just complain about it when you decide to
be a real bitch.

Knowing that devotion is fractal means pouring and pouring.

No way around it.

Hang on until I feel like realizing what I did. Bathtub is shaped like the aftermath. Will you lean
against the mirror, will you fog up the glass. Anything but sing, anything but that. Rude as a
cactus that blooms at night. Knee light, cerulean light.

Activate.

I brought the wrong equipment. What I mean is a lamp. Onion from the yard. Traumatized
animal. Might as well do what I can except I forgot how I arrived. Plus you have no idea where I
saw yolk seeping. Believe me. I gave and gave and gave.

Like a fucking priestess.

I need you to understand the promise I made to a bird. Orange wine, tower catching fire,
someone pausing the movie. I did not imagine it. You want something for the blood.

Shut your mouth when you see me leaving with nothing.

The kitchen does not face the light. I tried. Believe me. I could smell meat rotting from the yard.

I photographed a hole to explain the feeling.

Shut the porch when I go out and ruin another fucking dress. Gravel this time. What does
magnolia have to do with it. What does mimosa.

I know the radio will spoil the mood because it always does. Blame a certain kind of midnight,
truth is that I have to use my hands. Salt got everywhere including the bed. And the garden. And
the plate I heaved against the wall. No need to forgive, just complain about it when you decide
to be a real bitch.

Knowing that devotion is fractal means pouring and pouring.

No way around it.

Hang on until I feel like realizing what I did. Bathtub is shaped like the aftermath. Will you lean
against the mirror, will you fog up the glass. Anything but sing, anything but that. Rude as a
cactus that blooms at night. Knee light, cerulean light.

Activate.

I brought the wrong equipment. What I mean is a lamp. Onion from the yard. Traumatized
animal. Might as well do what I can except I forgot how I arrived. Plus you have no idea where I
saw yolk seeping. Believe me. I gave and gave and gave.

Like a fucking priestess.

I need you to understand the promise I made to a bird. Orange wine, tower catching fire,
someone pausing the movie. I did not imagine it. You want something for the blood.

Shut your mouth when you see me leaving with nothing.

The kitchen does not face the light. I tried. Believe me. I could smell meat rotting from the yard.

I photographed a hole to explain the feeling.

Caroline Rayner is the author of calorie world (Sad Spell, 2017). Her work can be found in Peach, Shabby Doll House, No Tokens, and elsewhere.