The Death Beckoner

Izzy Bee Phillips

The backstage of the school theatre,
Squinting through a Bacardi Breezer,
Under the bed in the dorms,
My kilt itches against the wall,
a pre pubescent stab into the dark…
Then the underwhelming series of experiments start.
And I’ve fucking seen it all:
The sharp nail scratcher,
The too hard and faster,
The no warm up runner,
The GTA hand gunner,
The misinterpreted porn star.
And then worst of all:
the cold washing machine fixer.
‘Is there any hope in the world?’
I wonder, contemplating this confused science.
Years then pass,
but one day….
as if bestowed by the heavens
he arrives…
Church bells chiming….
On horseback
Prince Charming
Or whatever.
I call him….
‘The Death Beckoner’
Motioning that golden gesture.
There is a God.
I knew it!
There’s a God in the world.
There is a fucking God in the world
and his fingers are inside me!

By Izzy Bee Phillips


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