Zia Ravenscroft
they beheaded saint valentine / twink and twink violence (against the world)
love is not a glossed-over beast
think about love in a magazine article. think about love on screen
curated, perfected, fix the lighting, fix the sun against your skin
the parade, the pairing off, the pantomime
a script that’s been edited, edited, then edited again
now stop thinking about love:
i am ready for devotion
i want to hold you, covered in dirt and agony
at the end of the world
i will wake up and the abyss will be unceasing and
i will not leave you, even still
words are a pretty medium but this is not a pretty love
i want to elbow straight men away from you when they are too assuming on the ivy dancefloor
be ready to face the worst but hope for the best
do your make-up, paint my nails, have you shave the sides of my head, bleach yours in turn
be fierce-hearted, be unafraid, a warrior, saint valentine decapitated on the porta flaminia
and we’re bigger than love but trust me, follow me, listen —
i know how to keep our heads on our necks
i won’t let this be an execution
what’s a martyr? i’m a tactile learner by the way
skin unclean, fingernails bloody, bruised knuckles
be a fucking menace to everything trying to burst the doors of the refuge we’re going to make
my mum doesn’t like horror movies because they’re too gory
i want to remind her
our house has been far more slasher than that
and her face then was a myriad of calmness
i think we are in denial a little too much. i think we’re addicted to our own facades
i think that sometimes we forget: this world is a cauterised abscess
and we keep trying to stitch it up as it leaks and swells and opens over and over again
masses of meat and electricity, throbbing with life in the darkness of the cosmos
i don’t think crucifixion saved anyone
we tell ourselves that so we don’t have to think about how badly his hands must have hurt
there is no design, outside of chaos weaving
i think i could survive the apocalypse if i was with you
i could survive anything
press your lips against me, split me syrupy, prise pomegranate seeds out from my ribcage
and i’ll swallow twelve for every month i’m going to fight for you
i want to feel your heartbeat. i want you to feel mine
lick the guillotine clean
this world is a wounded animal, and it is a miracle, and i love you
wipe the blood off of your teeth, darling, and say it with me:
we’re not going to let this die.
Zia Ravenscroft is a trans and queer writer, actor, drag king, and student living in Te-Whanganui-a-Tara. He has been published in Overcom, bad apple, The Spinoff, and Takahē, and performed at the National Poetry Slam Finals in 2023. They are a member of the queer film collective The New New.