Poem in Which I Burn Your House Down

this is the poem in which I dance with bugbears:
the meta and the confessional

bless me father for I have sinned ____________you will not make a bitch of me on Easter Sunday
a decade since
_______slammed door reverb
__________________________________________spare me ___i_i_________ _ialas
__________________________________________spare me _____ii_____ platitudes
__________________________________________spare me _i____rhetorical bullshit
________________________________________________i___on female submissions
__________________________________________spare me __i____market dynamics
this is the poem in which I am clawing
my russian sisters out of your city hands
in which I write reams of apologia to
my girls for shoving them into A5 dresses
___________________________________once I played bass on an EP ______i_worthless
___________________________________once I was content with a byline _ii__but once
___________________________________you’re in your 30’s___i_ the body you deserve
______________________________________i__________i________ican’t stop eating
_____________________________________i___________________can’t stop writing

_______________________________________________i_____catholic guilt incessant
________________________________________________________allegedly relished*

this is the poem in which I climb down
with splintered legs ___ ripped tights
longer hair __________ _ fatter face
humming bigmouth strikes again and
cheerfully lighting matches
_______________in your direction
___________________________________iii___i___i_composing mental spider charts
___________________________________________i_______i___of different presses
______________________________________________________i__different houses
_____________________________________________________different train routes
__________________________________________________i________different but:
you are still you __you are still ser __you are still _____________________ you_ are_ still



*not really. chips and mayo sort of a girl. least academic footnote you’ve ever read? GOOD.

Sarah Crewe


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