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Louise Peterkin: a poem



Bunny Boiler

 

all men felled by my aldehyde   Alex the glamourer   i look like a stepmother     wanna scrunch my hair?   it sounds like a car backed on gravel    one man left    another arrived   

I ached in the space in between   the sex is arch   thrust into washing up   I kneel in a birdcage elevator   I’m an itch that requires several scratches   then     one dead dad joke    

my hand overplayed over pasta   Alex the clamourer   the hurt days now and they require lots of planning   my dreams are like war video games opera   I ache in the space in between   Alex the matador   behind a red muleta   a family disappears   Alex the conjurer   the rabbit in the hat filled with water   pink upon white     and the world boiling over   

look what you’ve reduced me to    nothing as warm as a steamed-up kitchen   I gave you    my radial arteries   I gave you a mix tape   full of choice maladies    isn’t it magic    to

see yourself as you are?     Alex the camera   you hate me for it      nothing   as cold as

a steamed-up bathroom   even my ending is taken from me   someone once said life was

a    sparrow    shooting through a bright hall    from a dark window    to a dark window    the lamp goes on        the lamp goes off                                 I ache in the space in between



Louise Peterkin is a poet from Edinburgh. In 2016 she was a recipient of a New Writers Award from the Scottish Book Trust in the poetry category. She is the co-editor, along with Rob A. Mackenzie, of Spark: Poetry and Art inspired by the Novels of Muriel Spark (Blue Diode Press, 2018). She is an assistant poetry editor for The Interpreter's House. Her poems have appeared in many publications, including The Dark Horse, One Hand Clapping, The Glasgow Review of Books, Magma and The North, and her first collection of poetry, The Night Jar, is out now, published by Salt.

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