Poetry by Julia Cunningham

              Bill Tyne CC



Refill, Please

Scattered brain, look! an unremarkable stain 
Big ole mess walking fast towards nowhere 

Or home, it’s really all the same 
When you’re alone like a hamster 

On a stationary wheel. Running 
On two modes: busy or idle 

That’s the losing battle straddled 
By a consciousness barely tethered 

To an exquisite corpse my body 
Who by the way is working on borrowed time

Or was it Father Time? With his big hands and 
Certainty, I surely need a man like that in my life

Wait no I take it back. I’m a feminist goddamn
It is so easy for men like him

To show up one day and tell you 
You’re special I swear those boys could

Sell you the shirt off your own back and somehow 
Make you feel luckier than a four leafed clover

Until one day they dip
And you end up covered in shit

Then it really doesn’t matter how many leaves 
You got. To hold onto sanity

Is little more than a vanity project these days 
But I guess it’s worth a shot

Of what? I don’t know
Probably vodka or hope

Either way it won’t go down easy
If you’re doing it right

​

Julia Cunningham is a queer, disabled writer and student at the University of California, Berkeley where she studies English and Disability Studies. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Matchbox Magazine and the Berkeley Poetry Review. The only thing she loves more than writing is her biological and chosen family (but most especially her dog).

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