RIPE FRUIT
In my dream you say
‘my favourite joke in Arrested Development is-‘
and then I wake up
A sky sitting purple in the depth of its bruises
I ask you
and you rattle off seven
On a bus full of children
shouting over and over
Oh my days oh my days
A handbag of clear plastic
her valuables jangling in it
like donor organs
All this lift in the centre of heaviness
Love me more
I am invariable and we hate the same things
You can have one favourite not seven
tell me to fuck off
my room is the colour of plums in the morning
Oh my days oh my days
they are swollen like royalty
and my days and I we do not deserve each other
– Cleo Henry
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cleo Henry is a writer and researcher living in London. She is interested in queerness, power and the digital. She has been published in several magazines and periodicals including Angry Old Man Magazine, The Upcoming and Otoliths.