blood lemon
your love smells like lemons
mine like a fishing line
i catch in the throat i get tangled
and have to be thrown far out
and into the water
you clean out wounds
and cause weeping
people do not say their favourite smell is a fishing line
people do not peel lemons and offer segments to their lovers
factors that determine the choice of line
include breaking strength
and abrasion
i find myself hysterical at the beginning of spring
i find you sharp
and the weeping is unfortunate
i must stop being so artlessly culpable
my favourite smell is blue
when it rains i put my nose to the street
i must stop being so openly primal
you squeeze your love into jars
and store it safely under the sink
i hook mine with bait
you look so innocent i throw you back
you look so innocent i wash all the dishes
these similes must stop being so full of nonsense
and so artless and so self-referential
all i mean to say is i can’t get this juice out of my eyes
or do i mean we sleep in a riverbed
i must stop making lists for all my feelings
i should start making love and stop sticking barbs in your neck
Eloise Hendy is a postgraduate student in Creative Writing at the University of Edinburgh. Her poetry has previously been published by adjacent pineapple, Zarf Poetry, amberflora, The Inkwell, Canvas Journal, and Crows Nest Zine.