Writing from the stemistry lab
Consent
by Stevie Ronnie
A broody woman might bandage a body with morals,
mimicking the precise responsibility of a child
holding a schoolyard bell.
Evening times, as she sits on the sharp of the step,
she might remember her bloated intentions in Nice
when her foreign heart was slate.
An embryo, sterilised by the moon, is born sleeping
in the lab behind the hospital. She folds away
the day with the sun’s backing.