A new poem from my WIP, originally published by The London Magazine. Because inspiration can strike at any time – even when you’re brushing your teeth ;)
Content warning: suicidal ideation
The Warning
Feebly dragging a brush over your molars,
you spot, for the first time ever, the warning
printed on the back of your almost empty
supermarket-own-brand dry shampoo can:
WARNING
SOLVENT ABUSE
CAN KILL INSTANTLY
& that word glimmers in your mind,
as it so often does: suicide sprints
from one edge of your head to the other, starting pistol still
pointing skyward, the unloaded assurance resounding,
the promise of smoky nothingness. You imagine it.
Death by aerosol. Death by beauty product. Death
by refreshes brunette locks between washes!
You haven’t tried that method yet. Never thought of it.
What magic, that you could simply snuff out your life INSTANTLY
with a can of pressurised powder! Thrilling, this shiny tin & its capacity
to be deadly. You know—better than anybody—the urgency of needing
to die leave. You spit the mint foam into the cracked sink, wipe your mouth
with a drag of your hand, twist the can to face away, unsure
whether you’re saving this new knowledge for another day,
subconsciously squirrelling it away with all the other inventive
manners of death you’ve hoarded over years of despondency,
or if the idea will leave you just as quickly as it jolted into
your brain tonight like a serrated yellow lightning bolt
cartoon on a dry shampoo can—that charged electric graphic
guarding the tempting warning, fixed in a permanent state
of striking, forever splitting an imagined sky in two.
You flick the light off, slink into bed, force yourself to choke
down your cocktail of meds, promise yourself that you’ll wash your hair
tomorrow & throw away all the aerosols you own, dump them determinedly
into the overflowing recycling bin first thing in the morning & go on choosing
to exist, with echoes of a lifetime of thunderclaps rattling your soul.
HLR 