leah dodd
i have the money, i’ve been working nights
on New Year’s Eve while it was happening
we heard the upstairs neighbour
on the phone to a man overseas
she was smoking out the window
slurring about savings
we pictured her nestled in an old striped duvet
one foot dangling above us face lit by the moon
she could buy a cabin for them in Canada!
it would be so nice in the winter all chopped logs
and frosted panes rum hot choccies and
that wool-smell thick on the boot socks
honestly bro she said talking right over him
who was on speaker and maybe in France
who muttered about time differences
and politely said he really wasn’t sure but
he would think about it
and what about his girlfriend
were they still together?
how we looked at each other
in the gap that followed
before he said
yes, they were
and did she keep it?
yes, she did
at which point
while we were wondering
what this man was doing
on the phone for so long
with the upstairs neighbour
if he had both girlfriend
and baby
but maybe
with the time difference
or maybe
it’s just the mystery of love
something we’ll understand
when we’re older
we almost forgot the blood
the worst coming true
and coming true
almost forgot what we decided
about going to the hospital now
or waiting till morning
dark adult italian style
it’s hard not to fall in love with strangers
when everyone at the gig looks like
young Paul McCartney
I try to enjoy live music even though
I brought a child into the end times
when all the dystopian tropes are coming true
they won’t believe we knew but didn’t fix anything
I feel so embarrassed
•
it’s like trying to grasp galaxies
while drinking beer on the kerb and noticing
an ancient condom camouflaged with the gutter
I can’t take a single thing seriously
not even the world’s impending doom
•
in the internet’s greatest video a 1300s nun
clacks rosary beads and splashes holy water until
you make your last confessions and die of plague
I try to enjoy the internet even though
I brought a child into the end times
•
there is no excuse for having end-times children
only a selfish curiosity for
those unexplainable feelings
on weeknights I meet the feeling of hopeless dread
with a hot chocolate, interestingly named
DARK ADULT ITALIAN STYLE
I wonder what makes it adult, or even Italian
the darkness? the style?
•
when all the dystopian tropes are coming true
they won’t believe we just sat around drinking hot chocolate
wish I could swaddle the world in those scratchy pink
satin-trim blankets that lurk in every
70s-built state home
then send it gently into that dark night
with a little kiss on the forehead
and two vodka cruisers for the party
I could never have a sugar daddy because I don’t look after myself
after Phoebe Stuckes
people think that hairless cats are ancient
worshipped like cows or wildcats but really
some genes mutated in Canada
and now they need a skincare routine like the rest of us
regular baths, bamboo cloths, baby shampoo…
I only wanted to care for something small and alien
wanted to feed fresh baguette
to the local ducks and afford it
could’ve had Jeremy could’ve had Michael
could’ve had John or John or John
John could’ve bought me a sphynx
but I pick at my skin and I’m bad at acting
they should invest in someone who cares
for their appearance even a little
someone with a strong walk
like those Lambton Quay women
all smooth hair and good shoes
who would say when they were charged twice
and wouldn’t just sit there
while a seagull ate their sandwich
once I pretended to be in love
but then it became real, like the velveteen rabbit
it became real and had to be taken away
to be burned in the forest like the velveteen rabbit
which is to say that it ended very badly
and still sometimes I cry on the bus
when that Nina song comes on
when I told the hairdresser about the blunt scissors
over the bathroom sink, no mirror just vibes
instead of saying woah how reckless, how wild
he only gave me a sad kind of look
and nudged my head down with his thumbs
Leah Dodd lives in Pōneke/Wellington. In 2021 she won the Biggs Family Prize in Poetry for her work written while completing an MA at the International Institute of Modern Letters. Her first poetry collection, Past Lives, will be published by Te Herenga Waka University Press in March 2023.