by Louise Wallace
Louise Wallace is the author of three collections of poetry published by Te Herenga Waka University Press, New Zealand, with her next book, THIS IS A STORY ABOUT YOUR MOTHER, forthcoming in May 2023. She is the founder and editor of Starling, an online journal for young New Zealand writers.
the starring role
it’s all about keeping up your outer. compression, not injections, and occasional treats. it involves a lot of smiling with straight teeth. what you might try is some Yves Saint Laurent. you’re entitled to yoga products. it’s a valid need to connect your skin to your brain to your eyes to your muscle. listen to your calcium specialist and try to halve your water retention. pasta is meant to expose a series of unrelenting levels, backwards tales that come quicker than headaches. it’s these special diets that are the foundation of your old appeal, which you revel in losing often. think edible frenzy. think a dog gone gloriously rabid.
all you can hear in your dreams is barking
your legs make noises in bed. their little bones cooling through to loud gentle stretches. your whole life is visual waste, the numbness, the hopeless pursuit. you can’t make a remedy from a clove. cookbooks won’t provide a salve from the disturbance. the cramps are a warning that you should now be attuned to. what you’re hoping for is a vivid door. a pathway leading away from the lives of dolly wives, dried stiff like hung garlic.