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Two Poems by Annabel Mahoney

On Gilgo Beach

Sometimes I hate and sometimes I remember and sometimes I think of what was done and said

at the back of my throat like a wire and

i can’t imagine more than what happened in this flesh

in this body, in this upholstered bone.

A bottle of wine a night and I still can’t say

mark her, o mark her, the gallant captain cried

and I put down my sails a lee,

A bottle of wine a night and I still can’t see

Sometimes I remember and sometimes I bite;

in my dreams I draw blood from myself

from biting my finger from not saying what

I can’t remember. I wake up and the marks

aren’t there and that’s the only

thing that can say it wasn’t real. In my dream I

vomit flesh and bite myself so I bleed. in my world

i stuff cotton in my throat so i can’t; in my world my teeth

were taken out like a pearl necklace. In the world

that’s here they don’t say a thing.


I remember my body.

I remember her well, as a friend.

I remember when we loved each other.

I worked her and she was good. I made her

work and I made her. And people loved me because

I made her. And all my happiness became because I made

her. And when I had to think otherwise the made was gone and

I was away. I was gone, and I took me with me. I took my heart with my head and now I don’t know where we have gone. I seek and I search

but I can’t find either one.

Annabel Mahoney is the Editor-in-Chief of the Wellington Street Review and the Creative Director of Royal Rose Magazine. She has been widely published in a number of literary journals and anthologies; most recently Burning House Press, Ghost City Review, Déraciné Magazine, Mookychick and RECLAIM: An Anthology of Women’s Poetry. 

Her first collection, Wyf-King, was released with Lapwing Publications in June 2019.

Twitter: annabel_mahoney Website: annabelmahoney.com

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