a story of three Claudias
Then red. Two cyclists in savoury costumes. One Claudia cracks
the picnic basket and peels a lamb’s heart. Then red. Sugar
on the blanket and sugar on the hot skin on her olive thighs.
You can dissolve a lamb’s heart in water and drink it like a Berocca;
sauté potatoes in it. The Claudias are sucking the open petals of its atria
like nectarines. Then red. The Claudias are a result of convergent
evolution. The third Claudia is unknown or dead but there are peeled
eyes in the basket and pâté and wine. White then red. Hard not to
be happy. They saw a dead fox on the way here. Tarmac then orange
then red. They toed it into one of the world’s holes. Respectful.
Rode on. The sun has made their lycra hot and tight and wet
but there’s always been the promise of sucking sugar from this sheep
child’s innards. One more bite then home for a cigarette.
Bite then home then red.
SUSANNAH DICKEY is the author of three poetry pamphlets, the most recent of which, bloodthirsty for marriage (Bad Betty Press, 2020), received an Eric Gregory award. Her debut novel, Tennis Lessons, was published in July by Doubleday UK.