Behold, my Aesthetica Creative Writing Award shortlisted poem, a rewrite of an old poem from History of Present Complaint but with a different narrative.
I have owned or still own 99% of these items. Of course I’ve never had a real Prada handbag, but I did actually get around to reading The Morning Star, for my sins. When my dad gave me the Black Ibex horn I remember he said, “You could kill a man with this,” and so it’s always been a weapon to me, rather than an object of natural beauty. The post-it note is also real but it was dated 02/07/2010; I found it in an old notebook and it upset me to recall how much pain I was in, how much I was struggling when I wrote it. No hosepipe, because I don’t have a car, but the girl in the poem did. I don’t think I’ve ever not finished a burrito, though… I admire her restraint. I won’t tell you the name on my Hit-List. I really must empty my sharps box. Leave a lemon unattended for a few weeks and watch it turn to green dust.
I know readers like this listicle format because I’ve had a few people send me their own wonderful versions ‘after’ my original poem, so I thought I’d see how far I could push the form. This is the result.
Trigger warning: rape, self-harm, addiction, suicide.
Treacle Heart 