Ella Williams
a change of feeling
Jules Millward
Nixus My lips are turning blue you see but my lungs they must be red They are burning, burning sirens fee and I am losing most my head Someone come press down on me I’m fighting with the shock Release this air and set me free don’t let me rise up to the rocks Decompression leave me be my eardrums pulse and shred This pressure changed too rapidly too soon this disrupt spreads My skin must be dark blue by now surely speckled with debris If only you could see beneath this neo-livery I’ve used my air all in the depths it goes faster there than upper sea This surface force must accept my plummet plea or buoyancy It seems I’ve got the bends again my knuckles turning white It seems I’ve got the bends again so I’ll sink with all my might
42 | Windhover 2021
this grand wool glove tucked away in a vintage green drawer four months of sticky hands, blue eyes behind permanent sunglasses the summer of peeling oranges and pulling their stuck fibers from teeth. a guilty summer of hair matted to her forehead after long car rides with no AC. such patience to grab this warm relief! the frenzied storm outside ignorant to chapped hands, red and just as angry as the uproar thrashing against her yellow picket fence. the perimeter of a quiet place where you can scream how you love. how you hate. how you feel everything, all at once. parallel to the frostbite replacing sunburn; a different heartbreak that stings the same. inside, a tender chill weaves silently through conversation while shiny specks sleep softly on the windowsill. evidence of our new climate a pronounced hello to the faithful gloves.
