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
(Drip
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