by Katie Beswick

One
egg split —
four legged,
two lipped.
Cups dip
in bones
of hips.
Sip wine.
Contemplate stardust.
Cleaving, cleaving —
frog-footed,
breathing, breathing;
marble shaped,
turning over.
Long-limbed,
day-dreaming,
easiest leaving.
You’re grains
of rice —
spliced.

Katie Beswick is a writer from south east London. Her poems have recently been published in Ballast; English; Ink Sweat & Tears and Harpy Hybrid – among others. Her chapbook debut Plumstead Pram Pushers is published by Red Ogre Review. She teaches at Goldsmiths, University of London.