Alice Merry

I leave myself in the bull-filled room

…The bull fills the room……………………………………………………………..throws
…its horns………….wide………………………………………………………….handfuls
of barnacle……………..tapering…………into slick ivory points……………..medieval …chessmen spearing…………………………………………………………the paintwork
……………………………………………………………………………………………the bull
…is slick dense its skin pungent with grease…………………………………..the smell
………..of coffee grounds………black pepper……………………………the angular bronze
…of its backside .nudges the walls……………………lowers the thickly
…veined swing……of its haunches……………………into a crouch……………hooves
…unsettle the floor
……………………..the girl
…must not touch the bull
…………..must fit herself…………in his gaps
the game…..children play……………………………………….where shapes
…must be fitted…snug…into same-shaped holes only………………………..the girl-

…shaped holes in the room keep moving…………steering her
around the scalding weight………………of the bull’s shoulders………edging………her
…to the wall hyper
……………………….aware of the centimetres……………………..…between
her chest………and the flick…of the bull’s………hooves…she finds……………a space

…framed between left…… rear leg and tail………head ducked at the
…height of its swaying belly its
…………………………………….…phallus
………………………………………………………..the room’s inevitable
…centre of swollen gravity hauling all…….the thick air
………………………………………………………………in
……………………………………………………………………………other days

the girl must………………touch the bull………………must slather it
…in oil ease the creasing of its skin must                                              rub
…the bull’s shank plead its hooves …..to calm break
…beer bottles over its horns let the liquid slide down the in
…and out of the bull’s nostrils        its breath …………………… fruiting ……………stale ghhrrrummphhrumpphh against her chest
……………………………………………………the girl ……….. must hold
…her palm          …       to the    muscles       ……     switching like butter
…under the thumb swell of the bull’s               ……… silken temples
…must stroke its Rococo      brown lashes                as they close      feel out
…the milky folds under the bull’s jaw find the largest          vein
hold                 the pulse                            as it slows      must allow
…her limbs to become      ……… granular to soften in on one another tuck
..her hands and feet                      away                feel herself become a shifting ..handful        of rice quick

………………to find handful-of-rice shaped holes

ii.

I’m sorry

girl in the room with a bull
………..………..who wants to be a handful

………..………..………………….of rice I can’t solve this room your search

………..………..………..………..………………….for a few centimetres

of safety since I left

………..………..the room of too much bull and
………..………..………………….too scared girl I’ve held this cube
………..………..………..………..………..………..in my stomach
………..………..some days
………..………..………………….in my throat
………..………..………..………..………..………..some days

I place it on the ground and watch the game
………..………..from the outside the bull
………..………..………………….looks

………..………..………..………..………………….like a stranger I can smell the sweet sour ………..………..………..………..………………….pepper of him but can’t translate

………..………..………..………..………………….the edge

of his breathing can’t
………...remember
………..………..why you’re still there

iii.

The bull lives in South London
………..writes artificial intelligence software for a food delivery company
………..eats cut-price take outs with three flatmates loud sporty types

………..stained the expensive leather jacket he bought with the girl’s credit card
………. tries to remember her ASOS password

………..goes to the Ritzy Picturehouse mostly on his own
………..thinks of the girl when Brixton Road is damp with leaves
or when his card is rejected

The girl moves west the girl
………..buys a magenta coat and heeled black boots
………..polishes them to a perfect shine

………..walks into town takes Bath Road
………..the yolk of each streetlight demanding yes yes yes

………..looks for anyone to touch her
………..touches anyone

………..presses rice to her tongue smells pepper
………..on the bottoms of her feet

………..in the cracks of her bathroom tiles
………..leans back as it spreads her nostrils
opens her brain

The last time the bull calls he asks for money
………..the girl might give him the money or she might take three trains to Brixton
………..and shoot him square between the horns
she doesn’t have the money and she doesn’t have a gun

–

Alice Merry is a British poet living in Lima, Peru. She has previously been published by the Emma Press and Orbis and has performed at events including the Cheltenham Poetry Festival.

To email, click here| For Twitter, click here

To discover more content exclusive to our print and digital editions, subscribe here to receive a copy of The London Magazine to your door every two months, while also enjoying full access to our extensive digital archive of essays, literary journalism, fiction and poetry.