I’m hungry, she said, like any child.
We were all hungry come the spring.
The girl would not eat with us. They
brought me her heart. I know it was hers.
Her blood-taste of chili and almonds,
of cardamom, of rosewater; the raw yolky
taste of dried apple teeth in my thumb.
Some say that I ate it. I did not:
I hung it with twine and robin-red rowan
berries and bulbs of garlic,
the way you’d crack a clock;
the way you’d crush a bone.
The goose-grease begins to melt,
glistens on my skin.
Cathleen Allyn Conway
Cathleen Allyn Conwayis a creative writing research student and Sylvia Plath scholar at Goldsmiths College, University of London. Her journalism has appeared in Bitch, The Mary Sueand the Guardian. Her poetry pamphlet Static Clingwas published by Dancing Girl Press in 2012 and her pamphlet All the Twists of the Tongue is forthcoming from Grey Book Press. Originally from Chicago, she lives in south London with her partner and son.
Artwork: Natalia Drepina