Fucking @ The Fish Counter
Wild or Atlantic? He asks. Wielding his machete Great striped apron coming in and out like the tide. Weren’t vertical stripes supposed to make you look thin? I think. As you slip your tongue on mine Like the tentacles of that Octopus
Which Feels like too much an animal to fall under my flimsy veil of Pescatarianism So we go for the salmon.
‘The one with jewels for eyes’ I say
‘Wrap It in gold leaf’ you add As you pull ice from my hair Evidence That We’d been Fucking at the fish counter
The plastic bag
Printed red with THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU Tiny muscles in my face contorting To the sound of Annie Mac bleeding out the speakers U know the one that’s like - - yeah well that one You smile I try to smile but it’s more of a gurn
Pretend to have something in my eye
Suddenly livid
That I spent 30 euros on a fish and it’s not even living
‘Why did you have to add the gold leaf? I ask.’ It would have been perfectly acceptable with just the jewels’
Take out my phone to write about it.
About how livid I am whilst pretending to text my mum.
And see the copy for a GIVEAWAY post staring back at me and just think no No No Nonono
So we sit in silence the whole metro ride home.
I guess that's love or some shit
That night A year ago When you asked me to go to that bar
And I was so nervous
Like so nervous Cos for days we’d been speaking through Google Translate
And now I was going to have open my mouth. Hope I could say something more than
‘Donde es la plaza mayor?’
Anyway this bar did natural wine Which I like the aesthetic of
but not the taste And had like a Dj
and coffee and stuff
Naturally So I looked it up
Saw it was shut
cos it was Monday
But didn’t say anything. Went all the way to meet you outside a bar that I knew full
well was shut Just to see ur reaction. Which shows the kind of person I am
the lengths I go to see the kind of person u are.
Which turns out to be pretty chill U just said let’s go here to this other bar
Ordered a glass of wine And a pumpkin empanada
Without even looking at the menu
Without even reading TripAdvisor
That was June.
And now it’s May.
And since then Weird shit has been happening like
The other day
At Sainsburys There was this man long white socks New Balance trainers
You know the ones the whole world has? Yeah well he had this tea in his basket
Sleepy tea And I just thought - God I really hope that works for you cos it never did for me
but for real like I hope it works
And suddenly I’m crying at the self-checkout
Whilst the guy holding the carrier bags as though they’re crack is like ‘number 5 miss, miss number 5.’ Anyway What I’m saying is I think that’s love or some shit. You made me soft Wet And I forgot to collect my nectar points
So fuck you And also thanks
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Miranda is a lesbian writer whose work explores desire and identity through a queer lens. Her poetry has been published in journals internationally, including T’art Press, Babyteeth Arts, The Rrromp, and Perspective Project. She is a regular on the London live poetry circuit with recent performances including; Canon Fodder, Rhymes & Stitches, and Poetry LGBT.
Her slate of short films have successfully won funding and premiered at BAFTA qualifying festivals, and her debut novel The Second Adolescence was recently longlisted for the 2023 Comedy Women in Print Unpublished Manuscript Prize. Day to day Miranda works as a freelance copywriter.
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