Feed – Grace Liley

The World


Blinking bachelorettes

in the Mama Mia sum up

of last night’s events

keep scrolling


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



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



my friends and their Colgate smiles in their sparkling party pics

Dan and his Dad

are thinking

they’re all


and boiling in my mind


no, I don’t hate them all

it’s that page

why do they post stuff like that



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-


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


a fearsome queue grows

greasy tongs in volunteer hand

it’s time to flip her over



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?’


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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