Eleanor Burleigh

dear   semolina you lumpy and

yellow  squat in  my throat like bile

as  I lie in bed  restless at night  your

taste  permeates  me  like I read  tastes

can do  you imagine something and

the  apparition of it  appears  on your

tongue but  you don’t  stop there you

crawl  down my  throat wriggling

through  all the tight  spaces  custard-y 

worm tail   you never understood  me

at school  sat squatted  there in 

a plastic bowl with   a plastic

spoon  staring sullenly at  my

small  pig tailed  face  they used to

mix  raisins through   which

I’ve always  liked but  when I would

pick  them out  there  was always

a coating of  your milky  spit like 

the  sugary  thick coating they  put on

pain killers    semolina I never

understood  myself  through  the

thin veil of  water floating  above you

I would   tilt my head  puff out  my cheeks

watch   the slight  shifts of  the reflection

in  the bowl    we never had  too much to

say   to each other     it’s funny

the relationships  that  stick

is a writer who finds inspiration in the sensory and tactile, and a fan of exploring ideas of the abject through poetry. She is currently studying for an MA in Creative Writing from the University of East Anglia.