Hannah Silva


Space was itself:
Doors slammed, toilet water
splashed. Cash fell to the floor
and spun around. A spider
let itself down and
Her head knocked against the glass.

(Sounds, strange, Sounds)
Her glass head knocked,
breasts kissed,
tongues wouldn’t relax.
Gasped: ‘You’re so beautiful!’
As if it’s all right to like lying
to the one you love.

I cut out her tongue,
laid it out lovely
on a plate. I read
it out in my dyslexic voice,
tentative; translating
Swords into Words
Lore into Love.

It bubbled and bubbled
dark pink,
an underneath of blood
that wouldn’t relax.
(Laughter, loud, Laughter)
associations melted.

We sucked ice-cubes
until numb, cooled
our blood till it froze
the ice inside broke
(I, and You.)

Between sips of iced blood
and tongue-less kisses
we undressed our words and
voice-less together said:
‘I love you.’