forceps pinch nipples pink,
looking for that snug sliver of skin
where the needle will go
once the fridge fresh lemonade can
has done its job of numbing
what a strange ecstasy
these paid for wounds
this metal contraband
the punctures
that render us
unmaternal
titanium bar
laid like a dam
to delay the escape
of milk
reclining
freshly penetrated
opening lemonade
with our teeth
pleased with the pin pricks
in our ancestral crest
feeding vanity’s thirst
through holy breasts
A white person with long black hair, bangs, and red lips looks directly at the camera. Their eye make-up looks like a black star. They are holding their hands up slightly below their face. The background of the photograph is maroon and red.
Becca Fang (she/her) is a Belfast-born, Brighton-reborn lesbian writer with a flare for magenta drenched melancholy. In her time away from being a poet and novelist, she can be found faffing about in the kind of outfits that make old ladies say, “Oh, that’s a bit different.” Her work has appeared in The 6ress and is due to appear in Bandit fiction.