by Angie Spoto
I am a liquorice woman
a fennel creature
a saffron thing that doesn’t care
for your opinions or your thoughts on the matter
or your advice to me because I’m not asking
I’m just here reading
and that doesn’t mean I want to talk
it doesn’t mean I want you in my ear
or your fingernail running rogue
across the grains here
at the table in this low-lit
pub where
let me repeat myself
I’m just reading
reading by myself here
and running a grain of fennel
around my teeth
crushing it between molars
and flicking it across my
two incisors and telling you again
look I’m just reading.
Did you know
I’m a liquorice woman?
I’m a pepper thing
I’m a girl with cardamom
stuck between her teeth
and let me say this one more time:
leave.
Angie Spoto is an American fiction writer and poet. Writers who inspire her include Angela Carter, Leonora Carrington, and Ursula Le Guin. Her most recent endeavours include a lyrical essay about her Italian family, a collection of horror surrealist fairy tales, and a fantasy novel about grief. She is working toward a PhD in Creative Writing at the University of Glasgow and volunteers with the Glasgow-based social enterprise Uncovered Artistry, which supports the creativity of domestic and sexual abuse survivors. She is Artist in Residence at HIV Scotland. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies, including Crooked Holster, From Glasgow to Saturn, and Toad Suck Review. angiespoto.com
This poem was first published in Issue 38, the rest of which can be read in our archive.
From Glasgow to Saturn 