Poem by Olivia Hart // Photograph by Leanne Surfleet
Poem by Olivia Hart // Photograph by Leanne Surfleet
BORN
Make your role models out
of scrap paper,
ignore the protrusions of unkempt modesty
look instead
for their sharp witted blades.
Shape them with a feminine
touch and fill their black
holed void with words,
dream them up;
destruction and untapped power
They are you.
BURN
We made too many words.
So many can be used for hate
too many can be used to put
me in a box.
But I can describe the stars.
They float a thousand miles from me
and illuminate my pasty skin
they burn and shimmer like I do
and live a mortal life.
In all this wonderment
with all these spoken sounds
don’t forget to listen to
what is not said.
RISE
I met a boy in Paris
he took me to a gig
we rode the train and
ran from rain and then
we shared a kiss.
I met a boy in London
he said he was from France
we danced all night
but I got shy and made
up the romance.
I met a boy in Spain
who said I was a star
I’d never felt so wonderful
I wrote it down
for my memoir.
