Bitter aloe by Rowan McCabe

This juice from the corner shop
is ‘ethical’.
It’s more well mannered than the last one I got
and more so than me.

Still it has drenched my house
with a tidal wave ten stories
and the leftover debris includes:
Shards of paper, broken thoughts
and three orchard workers
from the Eastern Cape.

Huddled around the radiator
our teeth are the wings of a hummingbird,
our legs are leaves of aloe ferox in the desert breeze;
we are tied by ropes of history
woven with strands of guilt
and unimaginable cruelty.

We attempt to clear the wreckage
as I make a quiet decision
to drink juice less.

Artwork by Elizabeth Bracegirdle

Want more? Read Helios

Nah, time for Prose

Go back to Issue 2

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