Sleeper in Raven’s City

November arrives, winding sheet over bleached leaves

I have given you up since late last winter.

Blue pills, round as the matriarch,

Swallowed up seventeen years of red life

 

And birthed me again. Kicking, shouting.

I emerged a cruel, splintering baby.

The colours red and blue all I can recall,

Though I never did see the lights of the sirens

 

I imagine they bled clean through

The fresh sheet of a Wednesday morning.

I imagine the cold air hot with screaming light

My baby brother’s hands shaking,

 

The thumb he once burnt scarlet

Mewling under dimming clouds.

Or perhaps the sky was a crystal cerulean.

Like I say, most I do not remember.

 

Quiet- Please- No speaking now-

Not a word till I spot something on four legs;

My mother’s bygone superstition,

Light leaking everywhere, everywhere.

 

The old classic, sunlight streaming

Through mottled, mordant trees

Laughing in their lithograph of monastic fervour.

One for sorrow, little raven

 

With the great big pit stuck halfway down its throat

Eyes light in the decaying atmosphere of April.

Look, the passing runners, look,

The passing mothers, children all skipping along

 

Agog at a world so well-lit

A sun so godly

And me, on my little bench, virginal, untouched,

But O, how devoutly unholy.

 

Sending light back through the earth,

Not wanting a lick of it,

Would much rather kiss Mr Psychopomp,

Feverish gaze, tongue down his throat

 

Than love a once bloody moon.

Diana is as much a mother to me

As my own mother remains a daughter.

That is to say, look at the fleshless bones

 

And laugh for horror. Swallow light

If all your dirty crumbs are gone.

Look! Look away! My head is flashing.

Little gleaming slivers, they pull me to some forgotten cell

 

Alone, finally, I spoon three more stars down my gullet.

Slowly at first, but now no more mothers, children, fathers

No aunts or cousins in big sold houses,

Slowly at first, and then light.

 

Starlight, blue flame, envelop me!

You’ve gone to my head!

You’ve turned the whole world a dim, weeping red!

You’ve devoured my whole life, a dim, weeping red!

 

Alarm bells in every pair of eyes

Ringing and ringing, phone calls on bright screens I never wanted-

Take me back to the earth-

Somewhere dark, somewhere warm-

 

I’ll writhe along with the worms

And eat my fill of decay.

Red shroud over my head so they cannot see

The stars sewn into my skin.

 

Red heart monitors, red wristband,

Red blood spewing from the ripped-out cannula,

Red words back and forth, spitted through snarling teeth

Blue walls painted for children.

 

Come into the light, sweet girl.

Open your eyes Miss Mausoleum

Quick, before the flames give way to ash;

Look at all this light you’ve made!

 

Watch how it kills everything, and you, still alive to laugh.

Talia Jacobs

Talia Jacobs is a first year English student at Hild Bede. She has been writing for as long as she can remember and can often be found spending too much time (and money!) in any bookshop she happens to walk past. Talia can be found on Instagram @talia.jacobss

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Human Hands