Willow Bram Desjardins
Willow Bram Desjardins is a queer writer from northern Germany, currently studying philosophy. In their free time they are found crafting or hanging out at local goth events.
Easy read of the poems in the images above:
Killing Jar
CW: imagery of death, implied sexualization
They say, armor´s cupid goes through the eyes/into the heart/that every time you trust your
body into the sea, you are born again cleaner/So I became a water corpse.
Marines taught a mermaid how to sing once/just to cut her tongue out when/her song made
them tie themselves to the mast/ they conserve it in a glass vessel still/ the alcohol-
soaked tongue pulsates.
(Pain has its own heartbeat)
Underwater, they say, even if you can´t stop the burning/no one will hear the
screams/anymore and waves look the most intimidating/before they break/
Do you think Medusa cries sometimes?
They sell her head now as a collar plated in silver/at the boutique where homeless cats carry
their pregnancy weight/through the street where/The impure jewelry is left outside
for everyone to touch.
Finger limbs penetrate metal rings/children give roses for money/to people they assume are
in love/the incense sticks lady talks about the sound the universe makes at its
beginning/and its end:
Did you know that the device to turn bugs into objects is called killing jar?/it takes their life
in the most silent way/so men in gowns will lean over them for decades to stare/
at their delicate little wings.
The sound of the universe to me is/waves on shore/your breath on my ear/rhythmically
eroding skin/you need persistence to place your wishes into me/through this
swollen cascade/caution cannot pass/so
Do not handle me carefully.
The summer my sister grew older
CW: self-harm, implied disordered eating, mention of bullying
Do not tell her things can be stolen you didn’t know belonged to you. Why your bathing shorts keep getting longer. Your body is a map with white spots on which every hand gets lost. And on nights like this, where heat persists like dandelion seeds that never/reached the ground/all those engraved street lines begin to ache. 2 am on the playground. We hope the neighbors can hear the swings creak and think of ghosts. Bring me your scandal, leave out the pain. Dare: Become a kid that is not bullied. Dare: Become a person that is kissed by people who love them. Truth: I mutilated myself to fit into my body. Truth: The biggest accomplishment of a shapeshifter is invisibility. For this trick I need a kitchen scale and ice cubes in water. Dare: stop counting, listen to your body want. Truth: I think I never stopped harming myself, I just found out how to make me hurt in more acceptable ways. Now I hesitate to break the barrier of my skin even to stitch myself back together. But all summer I sewed my mouth shut to not spill this knowledge on my sister’s developing body. Hide the secrets that hurt, injuries like a birthmark, be the bigger sib, let autumn save you. Talk to yourself like you would talk to the child ghost that never left the swing.
