Tag: Gillian Mellor

Drudgery by Gillian Mellor


By admin

He insists on coming in the utility room,
says he doesn’t feel dirty in there.
She had a breather until he found those tablets.
Now he comes in twice a day, every day,
opens her up, empties his load.

She feels like she can’t say no, wants to apologise
when fabric softener spills in the sink.
He says she’s electric. She dreams
of making him do it by hand,
putting him in a spin, buying a mangle.

Gillian Mellor lives near Moffat in Scotland. She has had poems published on and offline and can be traced to The Moffat Bookshop on the days they let her out.

 

Bulb by Gillian Mellor


By admin

You screwed me, your hands all over me.
Used me to illuminate your fantasies.
What now? Discarded on grounds
of efficiency. Replacements, handsome
as cows’ udders dangle from fittings
instead of me. My filament remains cool.
Incandescence fading from memory.

Gillian Mellor lives near Moffat in Scotland. She has had poems published on and offline and can be traced to The Moffat Bookshop on the days they let her out.

 

Anorak by Gillian Mellor


By admin

The first time he tried it on it felt all wrong.
So, he left it a while, studied pictures
in magazines before buying tickets to ride;
waited on draughty platforms hoping to make
connections. There were no names. He knew
them only by number. When he rode them
20002 whistled loudly, 37688 roared like a lion.

He bought himself a house by the lineside.
Slept by them, dreamt of them, threw
open sash windows to gawp at them,
took photos, joined forums, paid for
models, inhaled their scent: Diesel
and Heavy Braking his favourites.
He rattles off numbers of Virgins
bemoaning they pass by too fast.

Gillian Mellor lives near Moffat in Scotland. She has had poems published on and offline and can be traced to The Moffat Bookshop on the days they let her out.