ALL THINGS NICE

i put my whole hand into a jar of jam and allow the sticky

mixture to ooze over my skin, fusing the small hairs on my

knuckle and sucking down, soaking into my dermal layers

and running around my bloodstream and making me sweet

sweet sweet. sugar heartbeat. candied liver. a slither of

toffee as appendix, a slice of victoria sponge in my stomach,

cream and strawberry, treacle lungs. i want to be delectable.

devoured. i want to make you sick. quickening pulse as you

pull liquorice strings from your oesophagus, your open

mouth when you gut me and a sprinkling of sherbet emerges

on the blade. i want to be uncaged, unzipped by you, and i

want to shake the universe. i want to leave you quivering

and trembling out of fear or too much sugar, there’ll be no

way to tell. your teeth as well: rotting, falling off the bone.

because you tried to make a home of me, a placid little

mother and i am nauseous at the thought of it, at the cherry-

printed apron and the bow on the shoes. what proof! i’m not

a woman, i’m not even a girl, but fuck if i don’t perform like

one, if i haven’t all my life; i’ll never be your sweetener

and i’ll never be your wife.