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Writing Heather Sweeney. Artwork by Berenika Murray.

When I pull it from the back of my throat

It leaves a metallic savoury note

Through one nostril it slips and slides

It splatters blood and still it glides

Whipped from lip

Let it drip



The clot plugs the hole,

Stops the snaking red flow

The blood-drenched slug

Where it once resided

Dark hairy cave et twin beside it

Empty now for the blood that lines its

A sniff or a snort

As a last resort

Just to plug the flood at once

My body, my body it runs from me,

out of my nose, it longs to be free

My mind escapes

It drips and drapes

From lips to chin and then it makes a plop upon my chest

My head leaks when it is full

I bleed red

A cool sensation

My own heat

A foreign iteration

Of my own composition

That’s me dripping down my leg

Sip devour drink me

Take the Eucharist first for yourself

Then for your god

The nosebleed starts and ends with me

A lack of a thought

Awakening womb

Blood flows through me

You’ll see soon

When the nosebleed stops

And it pops

From within me

Then you will see

That all I can be

All I will be

Is the bleeding nose that birthed me

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