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I Remember You
Barbara Lawrence took the same bus into town every Wednesday. She got on the same stop, by the housing development that had been in progress for as long as she could remember. She picked up the same bits and pieces from Sainsbury’s. A pint of milk, half a loaf of bread and some bits to…
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Mum
I was an early birthday present,presented after the fog of the anaesthetic had fallen away,tiny hands reaching for the only friend I had known, in the nine months I had been baking,longing for the fond familiarity of a mother’s mighty embrace. The blessed daughter of the vernal equinox,to be born of your light was a…
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Mayflowers
I am made of mayflowers,sweet symbol of the spring.I wait all winter, to watch myself grow,singing my overture in the shade,as the sunlight fades away. My mother walked with great pain,a crown on thorns in her womb and a pebble in her shoe,but she carried her flowering child,until she found the forest and spilled me…
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Internalised Misogyny Is A Sickness/I Am, In Fact, Like The Other Girls
I am, in fact, like the other girls. Sick of being sent into battle against the other girls, sick of being taught to hate the other girls, sick of the deep sickness of internalised misogyny, that makes its way deep under your skin, painting hatred through the veins, until you are poisoned. Grasping at your…
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Old Women
My grandma told me once, that when you’re an old woman, you become invisible. Wandering the world, unseen, unheard, unnoticed. I’m surprised WASPI women didn’t turn to crime, to create new pensions for themselves, under their invisibility cloaks. The trouble is, the definition of an “old woman”, changes all the time, because there are so…