find the illustrated version here

spot in the house where the phone works

words by Nat Briggs

Spot in the house where the phone works
Pink robe, butter coffee, end of worlds
Costume change, silk
Nightgown, flannel pyjamas
Heavy fly slipping
Down the glass

You tell me about the furniture section at the Lismore car boot market
It’s just one stall
Lu’s voicemail telling me
Their psychic predictions have expired
Telling me
There is nothing to predict

Palm bought the morning
You and I got into a fight
I was worried the palm would hold our conflict
The palm is thriving

You tell me you want a love party
You want to bathe in gems

The performance of the strap on
The only part I resent
Fastening the buckles when I feel urgent

I recorded videos of myself at twenty-five
Putting together Ikea furniture
Shoving my whole hand into my mouth
Drinking a litre of hibiscus tea
Taking off clothes, putting them back on

I’m very in love
I’ve dated a number of people but
I see now I wasn’t the best person to date
I could have sat on a mountain and waited
It didn’t have to be a mountain
Could have been a bed, table, grass

During the first lockdown
I started buying six shots of espresso
And freezing them in an ice cube tray
The espresso would last me twelve days
There were others ways to approach this situation
However I still use the method
And will continue to do so

In episode four of Midnight Gospel
The main character
Whose name is evading me

Is assigned an avatar
With about nine penises

It occurs to me
That nine penises
Might actually emulate
The experience
Of not having a penis

Costume change
You and I get into a fight
Their psychic
Could have been a table, bed, grass
Into my mouth
I still use the method
Whose name is evading me
You tell me
Fastening predictions
Putting them back on

I tell you that’s where fairies live
You tell me no, that’s where mosquitoes live