Entropy (Heat Death)

Only Entropy Comes Easy

Anton Chekhov

In the day

I create a breeze on the porch swing 

Summer breathes shallow on the nape of my neck

The hot hands clasp my chest 

Another daybright fragment coasts on the grass 

Like a mallard, sparks splutter when I slam down the mallet

Like I’m forging it

And when the sickly orange rots, melts and flushes the clouds

Widowed heat radiates long after the sun is snuffed out 

And swallowed, as the garlic-shaped buds plume up their pollen 

My legs prick red by groping tongues of mosquitos

That come in fat clouds and swat like rain to the window 

Supping up the blood

Spit in something that numbs 

Attracted like the flushed-pink stomach of a lying dog in August

In the night

Somewhere, a moth storms, desperate under lamplight

Somewhere else— darkness seeks out the darkness

I begin to drink

Tongue the drips rolling off my fingers

But not with soft brush

Careful blend of the watercolour,

Rather, Instantly pulse 

Grasp like a sponge 

Rinse and throw down the cup

The bowl of my hands 

Outstretched for my ration of wine and not wafer 

The bottle of amber ran almost empty

Tucked beside my bed 

Its short-lived sympathy

A brief mattress boat that rolls

On nodding heads of the drink

The sky folds the reds in

And gold, sticky ring 

At the bottom of the glass

The half torn poster rattling 

Against the blades of the fan 

Tomorrow, the sun will birth stairwells through the thick branches

Scold shadows on my eyes, the twisting dancers

Illuminate the mosquito clouds 

Scatter them as dust blown when I pass

When I’m gone, rearrange and

Create a new shape 

I open my eyes 

Skin thorned to gooseflesh

Head light and sloshing 

Boat in the land, sunken 

I thought, maybe when I was young

On my floor, on a sheep rug,

With a pen and bound diary 

“Dear twenty-four year old me”

Would she be disappointed,

Would her eyes widen at the sight of me?

I roll over to nobody 

Outside— a distant, scorching firefly 

of a cigarette

And the shallow breath of Summer on the nape of my neck

Photo by Zane Lee on Unsplash

A tree wears Winter like earrings

Like my previous poem Hunger, I wanted to write about struggles with ED relapse. A large amount of the ED struggle is characterised by an unquenchable, unattainable obsession with perfection, which leeches itself into my ability to write. I want to be able to write for me again, and worry less about the need to adhere to an impossible standard, so I’m going to try to do that. As a concluding note, please remember that no one should be expected to be constantly productive in a pandemic, and please be kind to yourself and your body as you would your friend. Take care ❧

That night was the hungriest night 

The amber slashing across my face

The slurry churning under the wheel

The speckling shadows of the snow 

A stalking madness I shrugged off as gut 

The windshield fogged and I cracked a window

Let the car take in a thirsted breath 

Wilted green laid down to rest 

Rested its head

Blanketed there

Buried, unaware of my passing 

Or of my body lit up by the lights 

Flashing glimpses and then flitting 

Tens of eyes were bright and orb-wide 

Bordered the road 

And in the boundary line 

Of one second to the next 

In weakness and cession when 

The last-clung leaf finally fell 

I wanted to believe it was a doppelgänger 

That took hold of my hands 

And tore the wheel from them 

And it rolled, slumped over 

The rubied streaks from the flung

The caved crack in the tree body 

The dent where the car kissed it 

Wet, matted pelt, and the sickness of it 

From the jolt, and the last time

The last time it would die 

I hung from the seatbelt

My skull cracked open with 

The flesh of an orange 

Watched the eyes slowly eat of it 

The foul seeks out the sunless

The web of the windshield 

The wax skin of the daughter

Bloodied gold on the forehead

Monks to an offering 

Huddled round— hooded and bowed 

The wet bag of my stomach 

Pumping with fume 

Brimming with plastic

I cut myself loose

Photo by João Pedro Freitas on Unsplash