Stir Marta Wolny

Stir

MARTA WOLNY

The dial woke her: Warmth did it. Enclosed by a palm temperature can be held now. Don’t you love the valve? Docile, stick out, burying degrees from minutes ago.

Tumbling tongue of some k-9 slobbering inside himself reanimating sleeping legs,

lapping of the radiator: That keen pup made her shiver and bat each wing,

the lamp, the wall, the ceiling are asked which way is out. I would have shown her though the signs stayed sleeping, like my left leg, beneath my right.

Ladybird, you weren’t meant to sleep in student accommodation. I can’t give you those shelves, nor the vodka-breaths.

Through the window— It refuses to yawn with me, parting its mouth according to budge while that hot hound moves louder, warming my knees, and you, you are made restive.

Collage and front cover by: Hannah Beresford & Hendrikje Dorussen

© Sentire Zine Issue One. Lent 2022.