After the festival

I tend to judge the wildness of a night

by how often you say bitches. There always used to be

a car, at least, on fire. There’s that obsession

with morbidity: I’m fed up with poets today. Spell

megalomania. Spell acquiesce.

You pretend to be all hardcore

but you’re just a bruised apple. I escaped

to buy toilet paper. Mine is reverse-cycle.

How fucking dare he make us fucking feel

this way? The abstract noun

of a concrete noun. You had the mushrooms

last year. I’m not sure if it’s a changing

of the guard. That’s overzealous

cleaning, anyway.




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Fiona Wright

Fiona Wright’s new essay collection is The World Was Whole (Giramondo, 2018). Her first book of essays Small Acts of Disappearance won the 2016 Kibble Award and the Queensland Literary Award for nonfiction, and her poetry collections are Knuckled and Domestic Interior.

More by Fiona Wright ›

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