Two Poems by Charlotte Begg

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blind mute Dog.

 

Before my mother’s emergency 

  hysterectomy

            I remember seeing sanitary pads

concertinaed and stuffed away

 

  wondering if

bletting

       her stomach

or

remembering  things he’d bit

 from her tongue 

                   or

                     (and this is the one

 I believed in most

          aged 12

        from reading my official 

                The Girl Guide’s book for Girls)

 

when a near impish cord and eye arrived

         and the world

            crashed

      leaving it   mackled with wrong survivors

 

did she

bleed and bleed and bleed 

                                  until

     doctors finish their tea break

                     intervene

                        saying

‘there’s nothing more we can do.’

 

did they       pad her leaking parts

the best they could

             sending her home to 

 

            bleed and bleed and bleed

    into an eternity of trickling

    heat 

between her   thighs   to remind us

of marcid bee’s    hives

dripping 

never waiting for the smoking gun.

 

Maybe that’s why she hates me

      why she scrubs 

my skin so hard while facing the ceiling

trying to find something 

                           I still don’t understand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ghost Bird

 

During the downpour

         a black hole 

         encompassed

 by twigs and moss had fallen

         addled

                      I reached out        but was paralysed by

 the soft crack

 underfoot.

 

 

 

 

 

Charlotte Begg is a poet and artist living on the Isle of Wight UK. She has had various works published, and hopes to publish her own chap book next year. She spreads her time thinly between her four children, puppy, husband, pot plants, a degree in creative writing, and editing Eye Flash Poetry Journal. 

 

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