The World
Blinking bachelorettes
in the Mama Mia sum up
of last night’s events
keep scrolling
Newsfeed
what other posts do you suggest I see?
Dan’s dad in speedos
snapping unsuspecting ex-athletes and selfies
in between laps
grinning at winter behind its back
and then white font
is shouting my name
in front of greyed limbs splayed out
behind a black head
her neck stretched through steel bars
inky crystal ball eyes
terrorised
another
Veganism is Future post
this one I can’t skip
I click to read more of the story
about a cow called Grace
it’s what I expect
seed after seed implanted
the flowers removed as soon as they bloom
shortcuts, suffering and death
I’m left
tight chested
wondering
what
my friends and their Colgate smiles in their sparkling party pics
Dan and his Dad
are thinking
they’re all
blistering
and boiling in my mind
no
no, I don’t hate them all
it’s that page
why do they post stuff like that
Unlike
Dairy free, egg free, gluten free pancakes
Activate Mexican magic seeds
by mixing with water
Set them aside to drink
Sift flour separately
powder volcano rising
over bowl’s polished turquoise rim
Examine seeds
Whirlpool unfurled
Suspended like frogspawn
Might taste of them too
Fed Aztec masses
today sprinkled on privileged porridge
this recipe’s chia egg
no chicken needed
Dig out volcano’s crater
Pour in opaque almond mostly-water-
fall
it’s all caving in
Tip chia egg on top
Scraping every last cent
the saviour
sticks it all together
ready for the pan
Bacon and egg sandwiches at netball
Final whistle rips
through the mist
Imogen tears her bib from her chest
swings it above her pig-tailed head
skipping up the sideline
Coach Lyn jigs
onto the court
pulled into the scrum
of squealing pink-nosed
under 9’s netballers
Coffees gone cold in hands
forgotten by cheering, chattering spectators
one mum offering frozen oranges
no one was bold enough to try
ramming through the chill
the smell of fundraiser barbeque
captivates even the runniest netballer nose
Mum’ll take the special du jour
forget leftover lasagne at home
it comes with whining
dinner or bin for that beast
there’s a new one they will eat
Imogen darts into salivating line
coins chinking
ogling every sandwich
passing between hands
yolk drips ignored
soaks into uniforms
a sickening crack
stick fingers in
and peel the halves back
from the goop they together protected
black grill
streaked pink and white
twitches, squeals and crackles
as fat that once wobbled
as she waddled
combusts
a fearsome queue grows
greasy tongs in volunteer hand
it’s time to flip her over
Finally!
Imogen sidles up to an expectant face
‘I’ll take two!’
‘oh, you little piglet you!’
head shakes at offer of wholegrain grown-up bread
Wonder White, egg, onto serviette
‘Magic word?’
‘Bacon!’
Grace Liley
Grace Liley is a poet, young adult fiction and feature writer. She writes about her travels, her cringe-worthy experiences growing up, the environment and animals. Presently Grace is challenging the rigours of Creative Writing at Macquarie University, as she works to complete an Arts degree with a double major in Writing and Anthropology.
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