May 292011
 

Ribbon, bell
by Helen Ogden

all my strength,
to cut it out; fused bone, jutted
that pretty sound. It isn’t.
It wasn’t,
when they tied the thing to

me. Ribbon, bell, Ribbon,
bell, neat little bow around the vein,
enough to pulse. Frayed.
Ribbon, bell,
that solitary chink.

all my strength
to call you out, loop upon
loop, this
metal wreath in skin
cannot be cut, for anyone
I have almost done
the deed.

Double trinket lock,
it is an end. I am
bait. Come forward, look into
my face. Freeze as my fingers
flatten to your bone.


Helen Ogden is a 30 year-old writer currently living in Harrogate, North Yorkshire. She loves stories and talking, and has been published in Cabinet Des Fées V1:3, Goblin Fruit, and the In The Telling anthology by Cinnamon Press. By the end of this year she hopes to have sent her first book out to an agent and learnt how to dance Flamenco.

 Posted by at 3:24 pm

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