palm-reader

Written by Willow, one of our poetry writers, and edited by Udita, one of our editors!

for our honeymoon you were wearing

a briefcase over your head,

the documents from court stuffed in &

legalese tattooed on your palm

I read them in the fortune teller's booth-

they got off early

& you woke up paralysed, back in the diner

where pitchforked dogs came for you

the apartment's just down the lane.

How about a movie night?

I'm scattering roses in the bathtub,

while your friends are spiking each other's drinks

& your mother screams at your brother

for being out too late 

your fate line shimmers faintly 

like the abandoned skyscrapers just over the highway.

I might burn down the courthouse after all this,

crusading on deadlines for living

but you'll be there to lift me out

on a hot air balloon and you'll remember 

it wasn't just a mirage from the dollhouse.

So instead, we have our movie nights,

I tell you all about the constellations on our hands

& we cook instant ramen

for a family of three.

slowly, the past day comes

and goes. I read your love lines, how it stretches

like the paths in the botanic gardens.

on a plane over the Aegean sea,

you fold the pages of your diaries

into a paper crane.

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This piece was written by one of our poetry columnists, Willow. Reach them at @oldmanheart, on Instagram!

This piece was edited by one of our editors, Udita. Reach them at @wilde_woolf on Instagram.

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