I DREAM OF DOING VIOLENCE UNTO THOSE WHO HAVE HURT ME
you were talking in your sleep last night.
something about breezeblocks, like the
song. i would have let you hang them off
my hands, if only you asked. but no—you
thought yourself victorious and disturbed
the peace. violated, i became violent and
disturbed the streets. the people rioted
and the sky stayed red for days.
you sunk into this far too easily. already
hungry. always waiting. now, i offer so
much more than my wrists to you. you
turn over in your sleep. next, i come
MADDIE C. is a sometimes-writer from New Zealand. She spends her time championing the Roman Republic and criticising James Joyce. She has no idea when she is going to graduate. She, in a very Taurean fashion, wrote a chapbook on bulls and their thoughts, which remains her greatest work to this day. She hopes to evolve into an always-writer soon.