I hate to dream of you like that


Ruining me from the inside out.
I held it in my mouth
until nausea overtook me,
belching you out
into the crook of my arm

while downstairs in the yard
a swan gave live birth
to a motley collection of headless
wingless eyeless lumps –
they were our children.

I swore to myself that
as soon as the linger
of bleach left my tongue
down the stairs to the yard I would go
to get them ready for school:

like you said, I’d make a great mother.

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

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