Yank aside my mask to vomit
An oil cocktail of bile spill (allergens in bold):
Old gin/with Fresh juice; and
a rim of vegan sausage roll
/Sparkling popping candy
burning up /Overgrown sinuses
/Swollen door paths /Splitting wood &
/Biscuit crumb lungs
(Plague-battered and deep-fried)
(No)hands reach into my unbleached hairs
To Cats(2019)-cradle my troubles between (un)familiar fingers
But, there! – Half a cup of water/A polo mint
(balanced gently on the wet grass)
Served: inside of four Cats(recording of the stage musical)
frommy Dead Moon’s Holy Atmosphere
in a Princess Diana memorial pint glass
And so (in the mode of an artisan) I:
recompose my spit,
wipe my tears, and fit my masks back on.
Nicks Walker is a queer trans Scottish writer currently locked down on the Southern English coast. His work appears in The Speculative Book 2021, Qmunicate Magazine and Anti-Heroin Chic and will appear in the upcoming anthologies, Summer Anywhere (Dreich) and A Drunken Midsommar (The Daily Drunk). He has four rats and various disabilities and tweets @nickserobus