I traced the GCSE Art-student impression
of your cheekbones, pencilled in peach; a soft
graphite rendering. Your irises were sectioned
by baby ingots. Your jaw was the edge.
I’d deserted a Chemistry lesson to come
to your sterile door:
you were so satisfying, although you wore
a home-knitted jumper in teddy-bear brown.
Through bitten lips, I sucked my Sherbet Fountain.
Wondered if your wife – blanched and underfed,
with a heart of Cotswold stone, no doubt –
tasted 50mg of sertraline when you kissed her.
Olivia Tuck has had poems and prose published in literary journals and webzines including The Interpreter’s House, Lighthouse, Amaryllis and Three Drops from a Cauldron. Her work also features in the Fly on the Wall charity anthologies Please Hear What I’m Not Saying and Persona Non Grata. She is studying for a BA in Creative Writing at Bath Spa University, and her pamphlet Things Only Borderlines Know is forthcoming with Black Rabbit Press. Find her on Twitter: @livtuckwrites