by Cee Jordan (they/them)
Artwork by MeltyBottoms.
Trigger warning: Allusions to panic attacks
The burrito is eight-oh with a student card.
(there’s a real deep first line for a poem)
Beef juicy, salsa enough to melt flesh, beans hard
Dripping enough to eat like a cow on loam
Follow me through the honey-sharp sun
Sweat and pepper burst on my tongue
Warmth enough to hide away upset
Protein enough to make guts numb
Say I’m just food-oriented. So, yes, sue me.
You’d be as well if you shook like a leaf
Spending shivering hours in the in between
Looking for something even like relief
You laugh when I’m done first, putting away my plate
But you won’t understand, ever, that when all’s said and done
my mind is made to marinate, to twist and shake
I take all my little blessings as they bloody well come.
Cee Jordan is a writer living in Dublin and studying English with Creative Writing in UCD. Their work is influenced by the mythology and urban folklore that exists everywhere in their home city, as well as the history that has made Dublin the city that it is. They love writing about weird locations that know more than they’re letting on, slightly miserable men, and women who can kick their ass three ways from Sunday.