Illustration by Stella Brix

Make Pretty

I blush with brickwork, speak cement

that’s clotted when it’s first poured out

then smoothed without my mind’s consent,

barbed wire bends my bleeding mouth

into a smile. Red roses push,

black diamonds sparkle on my skin

until I spread this liquid flesh

and all my weep holes are filled in.

I think about this Wendy House

I used to have when I was three,

it kept the shadow monsters out

I never thought it looked like me.

Lucina Wareham completed her bachelor’s degree in English Literature with Creative Writing last year, and is currently studying for a Creative Writing master’s at Newcastle University. She has read her poetry at several local events including Northern Rising, New Art Social and Alphabetti Soup, and features in Magpie Songs: a documentary exploring the poetic history of the North East.