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cat woodward

Gastro, mon amie

Banana, abandon your discretion

               softly now, pulpify

               we’re waiting to be shamed


Mango, golden noisy oval you

               be what you are

               lamp, heavy as infant heads

               your shadow, throw


those Lentil conspirators huddling

               where are your sympathies?

               among fingers gently mingle,

               Cashew becomes you


even the Mushroom has gills

               worshipful fold, precious stranger

               mimics the ear, shrinks


and dumb brain of Walnut

               crumpled, runnelled thing, knocking

               divulge your little darkness

               to us, a larger dark


now Squash, relinquish

               embrace the form

               of small cubes departing

               one another

                                             chop, chop!

               broil our irreversible broil

               pattern of the world’s sore unwinding


here Bordeaux bamboozles us,

               unbinds us with its swill

               of busy ghosts simmering

               be a loving devil

               be a ruby ring, sing

                                             the vine of home, o –

  

when my friend she broke her confidence,


                                                            like a bird from the hedge in May


indelicate               an ornate bone               departed from her cheek

  

savage + weightless


                              there was               left over from

                                                                                          when a little lie < in a small room <


a crochet hook.               and declining,


                                                            could not blink, could not eat


was almost


now, say

               if rind then nail

               if nail then the molluscs of her eyes


say

               if pip then thumb

               if peel, surprise


say

               if wet then sweeten

               if thumb then eyes

               then the reddened rind of her tongue


say

               if flesh then eyes

               if mollusc then thorn

               if friend then sweeten


say

               if friend then sweeten

                                                            her

               ever-falling chiffonade

               of sanguine, tart, voila!



               abandon your discretion

               softly         ,

               we're waiting


               golden noisy         you

                    what you are

               a         heavy      infant head

               your shadow,


those             cons               huddling

               where are you                         ?

                                          gently

                              becomes you


even the           room has gills

                              ful fold, precious stranger

               mimics the ear, shrinks


a    dumb brain

               crumpled, runnelled           , knocking

               divulge          little

               to us, a larger


now               relinquish

               embrace the form

               of                        departing


                                                        chop!

                        our     revers

               pattern      the               sore     wind


here                   bamboozles us,

               unbinds us with its  will

                      us  ghosts simmering

               be a            devil

               be a rub

                                                            of home, o –


when my friend she broke                             ,


                                                            like a bird                                      a


  delicate                   ornate  one                                      her cheek


savage +          less


                              there was               left over

                                                                                                a little lie <


a crochet hook                a    declining,


                                                            could not blink, could not eat


was almost


  o

                  rind then nail

                  nail then the molluscs of her eyes



                  pip then thumb

                  peel, 



                  wet then sweeten

                  thumb then eyes

               then the reddened rind of her tongue



                  flesh then

                  mollusc then thorn

                               then



                  friend then sweet


               ever-falling

               o                                       !



                abandon your

               softly

                              ing


                            noisy

                   what you are

                a        heavy      infant



those                                 huddling

                            are                              ?

                                            gently



even the

                               fold          ious stranger

                              the ear, shrinks


a     dumb

                                        nelled            knocking


               to us


                          relinquish

                               the form

               of                          departing



                               revers

               pattern


                                     boo

                              us

                      us   ghosts

               be a

               be a

                                                                       me, o –


when my friend she broke                             ,


                                                            like


                                an ornate                                                        cheek

  

savage +

                                                              left over

                                                                                                                        <


a                hook                a    declining,


                                                            could not           , could not eat


was



                  rind then nail

                          then the molluscs of her eyes



                         then thumb




                          then

                              then eyes

               then the reddened rind of her tongue



                  flesh then

                  mollusc then thorn

               if friend then sweeten



                              then

                                                            

               ever-



                abandon


                               ing



                    what you

                                            infant




               where

                                          gently



even the

                                                            stranger

                                              shrinks





               to us

                                     ish


                                            depart




               pattern


                                           o

                               us

                      us        o

                     a

                     a


  

when my friend she    o


                                                            like


                                an ornate

  

savage

                                                                           over



a                hook                      declining,


                                                                                          could       eat



 


                  rind         nail

                                           molluscs              eyes



                       then thumb




                       then


                                                                 her tongue



                            then

                                  then

                               then

Cat Woodward

is a feminist lyric poet and lecturer in Creative Writing at The University of Cumbria. Her first collection, Sphinx, was published by Salò in 2017; her second — Blood. Flower. Joy! — was published by Knives, Forks and Spoons in 2019. In 2018 she won the Ivan Juritz Prize for creative experiment. Her poetry has been published in The White Review, Hotel, Butcher's Dog, Black Box Manifold and Datableed, among others.

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