SATURDAY, BOWLING

He brings me seagrass and sweet shops shrunk to wallet-size
I take the train to his station and he meets me
I take him a splinter of bench we watched the wind from
Since milk sickness

carousel
of all the
things
which
seem
better and
i see with
fresh eyes
now:
frost in
super-
market
aisles bowls
of white
pavlova
orangeade
and
contempt
museum
sterile gift
shops the
chilly
wooden
blankness of
a velodrome
frayed lining
in stiff
leather
jackets and
the dead
cows they
came from
love and
pebbles
hollywood
starlets is it
too obvious
to say love?
it’s the point
of all this
and i want it
to be certain

We lay next to each other in
Salt lamplight and candid photos
We will eat apple cake and watermelon from his garden
No salt or grease will congeal in the arteries of my friend

---

Charlotte, 19, Lincoln - UK ✯

“Hi, I’m Charlotte. I’m currently studying English and Creative Writing at university where I like to write poetry and read strange novels.”