the girl with galaxies in her veins

sits weeping in her bathroom

she casts a line down the drain

hopes to find her memories

 

memories of pyramid spices in marrakesh

of turmeric in bangladesh

of cayenne and bright green coffee beans

memories of the man with the tiny opal box

of the darkened rooms and double vision

pavements turn to gold and eyes turn milky

there is absinthe in paris with lautrec

enamelled posters and split lips

there is dark, rich chocolate, bitter and warm

sipped with conquistadors searching for the fountain of youth

memories of days at the track with bukowski

nights at the theatre with dorian gray

she reels in the memories

something to block out the hideous bathroom suite

that waves and roils before her

there are clippers filled with cardamom and rum

bound for van diemens land

a night at the opera with frida kahlo

and bruises she has no one to lie to about

yellowing on her arms

 

cut her open and she bleeds just like you

her heart beats like a faulty metronome

but it beats still.