LAVENDER ADDICT: A DEEP-SEA THRILLER PART II

 

I
The detective returns
        just as expected.
Smoking an e-cigarette,
she leans tall over me
and taps the stem, twice.

I suppose you’ve heard?
       About the moon, or maybe –
       the ocean?

II
His bed was white, so white
it hovered. Sheets pulled to pin
arms at our sides,
butterflies in overpriced linens.

It started, as expected:
a hand on a thigh.

We hurtled towards an atmosphere
of romantic instability,
sagged velvet couches and
delayed text replies.

III
Cut to deep down to where
the anemones grow.
       Who did this? she asks.
Presumed dead, polyps fissure
into trillions, into thousands.

If they were flowers once
they’re marbled thick with flesh
and smell of rust.
But they were never flowers.

The detective’s smoke curls
plot-pointedly.

IV
He said I tasted strange:
“maybe like wet marshes,
stale rain.” Petals dripped
clots of brown matter.

I stretched out in pollen
petals stuck on skin
floated up where I forgot
air temperature and

the texture of gravity.
Forgot these rooms
covered in my pastel blood.

V
She taps three times.

And then?

I offered to dry clean the sheets,
and as expected
he checked his texts, rolled over.

And?

And that’s where you found me, I swear
that’s when you found me.

 

 

 

 

 

Em Meller has work in places like The Lifted Brow, Voiceworks & Seizure. She is doing an MSt in Creative Writing at Oxford & working on her first essay collection.

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