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2 poems by Maria Sledmere

Wasp Corp

Heavensent Cerberus

with a hair clasp of the corpses of wasps

all loam hello

for digital frostbite

I can’t get warm in

this one cool trick

stupid vitamin sweater

it’s so fallcore

to wanna be stung

and/or bitten

over and over

trellising my Lilliputian wounds


I grew up in the shadow of another palace.

Mamma had animals roam the garden

into the bargain, had all their fur dyed scarlet,

had worms. We ate nuts

and berries, red hunks of meat

culled from the state forest we couldn’t believe in.

Sexuality was our custom.

I grew out my bangs for the paparazzi.

I guess my love curled bloody meringue or nothing

convinced itself light

was the only value worth having

temptation of entropies unknown.

Coaxing twig from the nursery

a crepe myrtle lain on your tongue

a tiara worn alimony of young swans.

At any minute of the day tiny fish are eating the dead

skin of my feet, tiny goddamn days

of tiny fish are eating my time.

This is particular to the bloodline

you said in a speech to the governess

our life is bleeding a quiet hymnal.

Under the plane trees of London my love

sneezes gently

a genuine Eden.


Maria Sledmere is an artist and poet, living and teaching in Glasgow. She is editor-in-chief of SPAM Press and a member of A+E Collective. Her most recent books are Sans Soleil with fred spoliar (Face Press/Mermaid Motel, 2022), String Feeling (Erotoplasty Editions, 2022) and The Luna Erratum (Dostoyevsky Wannabe, 2021).


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