for H.D.
I was always scared of jellyfish
the way they move like they’re not animals not beings but plastic bags full of air blowing in the wind
although there was no wind in the hot Mediterranean air
and my cousins picked them up
smooth side down and threw them at me shrieking
and one landed
SLAP
on my shoulder
leaving red marks where its tentacles contacted
and my mum told someone to pee on me and they really did and then I smelt of a strange man’s pee
but a jellyfish experience does not refer to the blown up Tesco bags
nor to the tentacle scars still reminding me of the shame of smelling like urine
it is when everything fits so neatly together
everything collides
and you are covered by a smooth sticky film
and nothing else matters
not trump bolsonaro erdogan men capitalism instagram earthquakes logging gentrification rape shame depression
I had a jellyfish experience with you
on the top of the hill at full moon
I touched your back and you said you felt electricity
this made the sparks jump onto my fingers and we both laughed and rippled with the shocks
we wrote messages to the moon on tissue and burnt them holding hands
we lay on your t shirt and the jellyfish
– smooth side up –
enclosed us and its tentacles tickled the moon the stars the rough grass poking our backs through the thin cotton
we bounced down the hill still safe inside our protection
and then I recognised a familiar smell
and saw your wet crotch
and then my own
our collective urine made the experience complete
