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After Jean Rhys

26 February 2021

Charlotte Knight, Goldsmiths, University of London

I often wonder what could have been

My stomach a cold moon

steam rising from my body 

like a freshly boiled egg

Instead I lay in the snow 

England’s barren sky above me

I lay in the snow and bleed 

from a mysterious wound

When a doctor asks what happened

I tell him my sides split 

from laughter and I laugh 

at the medical impossibility

at so many impossibilities

Motherhood or that someone could make me laugh

I know things are about to get bad 

when my thoughts are in italics

I want to be held like a silver spoon

between your teeth

I want to sit beneath a palm tree

and simply not think


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