Cancer Mercury by Dorothy Lune

The academy recognises me & my wet claws, the bleached

barnacles lined up, coiling like a set of octopus eggs, spinning

at the top like milky oil /

*

at the threshold, what is this? doom or dread? Now,

let's refocus— the academy invites me over to discuss

a Pulitzer finalist, I would be the youngest girl there,

I'd seep into a chair's arms like an orphaned crow,

they'd recognise me & my wet claws,

*

the bleached barnacles lining up— what I gleam from it is that

I will / never have the capacity to love my mother & indeed I

agree, I won't— hot pink as feathers & the glittering skin of

blueberries, frilly frothing mouths white as oil,

*

& what I gleam from it is I am / the threshold,

lined up for the octopus hatching, & the

fear of forgetting toiletries is tremendous.

---

“This poem (Cancer Mercury) is one that I really love but ultimately trashed because it reminds me of this blurry feeling of confusion I consistently have, maybe own; I'm unsure if I want to go to university or not, especially because of financial & personal related reasons. So, when I write academy I mean it literally. This feeling of the unknown or whatever it is, I don't like it at all, I like to enjoy things but not this, but ladybugs help.”

Dorothy Lune (she/her) is a Yorta Yorta poet, born in Australia. Her work has appeared in Pinhole Poetry, Pink plastic house, Olit, Ice lolly review, & more. She is compiling a manuscript entitled Lady Bug & can be found online @dorothylune.