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Triad -- poetry by Olivia Burgess


i.


To stretch a heart, one must buy a textbook.

There is skin pulled taut and fresh

stomachs folded with printer cartridge filling,

the machinist lead of laminators, photocopiers,

a vacuum sealed memory

hot smoke of tears paper cut blood


ii.


All my dreams are the colours of flashcards.


boiled pink like spat chewing gum on pavement,

heel ground in mint green, jealousy eyed

veiled in surprise at a shaded box, meaning success. Butter yellow,

a summer so sought after it lies down with us every night

and whispers so soft, so sombre


iii.

What is a student if not a vessel? Plunged into the deep and cold

armed with limbs for running through mileless knowledge

for this break, this heartless venture

thrown against the heat death of a ticking clock,


To break a heart, another must pick up the stone

and throw



 

Olivia Burgess is a 17 year old raised and residing in the UK. Her poetry focuses on nature, love, her muse (who shall remain unnamed) and her internal dialogues. She has a smattering of publishings, from a short story chapbook to Paper Crane Journal, with forthcoming work in Ice Lolly Review and Cathartic Literary. When she's not unleashing her words, she fancies herself a bit of a good cook and constantly listening to music. You can find more on her Instagram @light.green_eyes


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