Eva Gerretsen

burntisland

The sidewalk is black poker chips and your muse has 8 arms.
I am hollow from the good dance and tequila.
On the steps of this place, I kiss you and crack my bones into a better place which is
necessary to take it all in.
Humanity that is, or, its glories. 
Ha. It’s the B.C stuff that gets me. Ruin lust.
I am reminded of a time in the back of the car, and next to me, my friend has her new baby on
her lap. She says:
Do you know why they call it Burntisland? It’s because a volcano erupted there and turned
the beach into ash. 
Her mother turns from the wheel:
No, no, where did you hear that? It was a fire on the docks. The baby needs your keys to play
with to stop crying.

American Nails Inc.

In winter
you tell the most extravagant lies
for example:
outside American Nails Inc.
I was feeling kind of amazing
I was in the middle of something
because my hand was green
by way of neon
& then
you say it & your voice goes a little up
like it does
up up

Eva is a writer based in London. She has been published in bath magg, Hoax and Indelible Magazine.

Eva wrote the following about her poetry:

Inspired by the eerie slippages between the human and non-human in medieval poetry, my work draws on themes of folk horror and cultural heritage. This, I think, makes my work ‘scorny’ (scary and horny), but maybe it’s only horny.