We make a masked ball of sour days

Though I forgot to slice open my eyes,
moving from feeling and music alone,

I blindly knew that the room was full of lovers.
They tilted their hips to each other, solicitous ears touching shoulders, pink

mouths already open and
every orifice an echo.

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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