On these

long distance roads

she is a far cry

like a crow.

In life she came close to the devil.

He wore a trilby hat, and tipped it to her.

He buoyed her in a sea of gold,

and later, bile.

I have surfaced on that island too,

my belly rising in sandy welts.

For better or worse, we cradle our men in the soft insides of shell.

We grow long shadows on the bed,

our sides exposed in conversation.

Everything is stained blue –

I feel like a virgin on my honeymoon and she did too.








Millicent Bishop is a 21-year-old poet and fiction writer based in Melbourne. She writes about plants, destiny and feminism. Her work has previously appeared in Cordite and Alien She Zine. 

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