Jenna Clake

Cloud Appreciation Society


Then came the day that we saw a cloud attached to a parachute,
heading down towards us…

We caught the cloud lovingly,
and asked if it wanted to stay with us…

It asked to keep the parachute on, and we let it…

And we took the cloud to bed with us, one by one,
not to sleep with it, but next to it…

We felt so wonderful with our arms wrapped around the cloud…

When it slept, it breathed like the sound inside a shell…

We were jealous when it slept
next to someone else…

We asked it to stay, and held it too tightly…

Before it left, it told us it would be back soon, but that it was a cloud,
and part of being a cloud was needing to move around…

We would have to open the window wide for it,
let it squeeze past us to get out…

We would watch it push itself into the sky
and parachute into the next house…

We felt a heavy rain in our stomachs…

*

I would die for you in the best way possible


As soon as you walked up to each other, you knew
the bench in a snowstorm was edible. One of you felt
like a shark egg, the other felt like I do
constantly: stepping on a just-mopped floor.
You listened to each other breathing as you walked
up the stairs, lungs like twisted straws:
one of you struggling, and the other steady
as the floor levelled. I looked at girls with fried eggs
printed on their skirts, tried to remember the face
of someone who told me they liked my t-shirt,
went back to the café eight months later in hope
of finding them. One of you felt cellulite through
your leggings, the other felt like I do sometimes:
ashamed when the microwave stops.
You thought about how things might have been
different, like candle pin being the most popular
form of bowling; if only the goggles had been red;
if only you didn’t mind being seen together,
pink tiles in a light green bathroom.

*

Self-portrait as a pink dressing room


Crack an egg in half and see
how a person always
has a story about finding
a chick inside the shell,
and then you’d dream of
this person doing the saddest thing:
making their own birthday cake.
They would pick two flavours
that reminded them of someone,
strawberry and rhubarb, forgetting
that one will overpower
the other. Sadder still,
to put some in your mouth
and find it has gone sour.
Imagine everyone decided
to wear the blue of a J-Cloth
on the same day, but you wore pink.
I leave flour on my clothes so
it looks like I’ve been touched.


*

I hid fish in my pockets and forgot about it for days
After Jane Wong


Anything that is not a vegetable is evil.
When we eat, our souls become heavier, like wet flour.
I splatter tomato juice up the tiles on purpose; I am dangerous.
Ceremony is another word for obsession.
I am honest enough to realise that.
To see success, look at the glassiness of eyes in photographs.
To see failure, well, you know what to do.
How terrible to feel locked out of life, to not know the secret.
My mother calls to tell me the bad news she has been hiding.
She taps the phone anxiously; you suffer so much already.
Remember: you’re not as good at hiding things as you think you are.


*

Oyster Delight


on days when the dirt gets in my eyes I hide in the back of an ice cream van I know this is the last place you think I’d be but the embrace of the inside of a chest freezer is everything I need if you toss and turn on the wrappers of ice creams you can hear the sea once I was lying in there and a bead of sweat ran from my armpit to my elbow then I really knew that I was alive yes I have shaved my legs using soft serve and yes I have passed the time building towers from chocolate flakes peering out the window at the road and snapping it shut when someone wants something from me seeing how long I can keep my hand between the magnums before it goes numb playing the ice cream van music and singing along sometimes I think there is a secret code between ice cream vans and what happens if I don’t know the distress signal what if I need someone to run to me like they’ve just been given pocket money I feel calmer when I am listening to the insides of the oyster shell wafers or writing my name in chocolate sauce I have discovered that an overripe strawberry makes an excellent lipstick

*

Garments I have dreamed of but will never wear


A beige mackintosh hanging on the back of the door –
I am waiting for the person; the peeling
of a squash or the folds of their dark green scarf;
squares of light on the wall, or the person tucking in
the label sticking out the back of my dress,
a lemon-shaped trinket dish, or an enamel pot for tea;
oysters cracked open on an unmade bed of noodles:
the feeling that I am doing something very, very wrong
with the person; then the person’s jumper with fluff
of a dandelion, and figs sliced open – inner-lip pink;
or I am standing at a pedestrian crossing looking up
at the person, wanting to touch their sleeve; or the person
turns to me as I am driving, listening to what I say.


 

    11     Cloud Appreciation Society
    12     I would die for you in the best way possible
    13     Wooden doll, total being
    14     Immersive experience of all the things I want for myself
             (that are bad for me)
    16     Vixen
    17     How much longer until I get this out?
    18     I wanted Agent Cooper to save my life
    20     Sponge cake, pound cake, gateau
    21     there is no marine snow here, my friend
    22     Self-portrait as the opening of a window on a hot morning
    23     Organisational Skills for the Hungry
    26     Milk, Strawberry, Sugar
    27     The omission is meaningless
    28     M’s letters to tumblr
    32     Like other women
    33     I hid fish in my pockets and forgot about it for days
    34     Siesta for Olivia
    36     All our problems began with a woman eating
    37     On feeling my eggshell heart break
    38     Jen’s Sweet Shop
    40     i am driving for hours tonight; i didn’t bring snacks
    41     I could cry, yes, I could
    42     It’s no longer about us, it’s got to be about me
    44     Elegy for Balto from the Bottom of a Frozen Lake
    46     Quayside of Dogs
    47     Self-portrait as a pink dressing room
    49     Bread, orange, aura
    50     Oyster Delight
    52     if you’re near the park, come find me, i’m having a picnic
    53     Still life of newspapers folded on a bistro set
    54     Sunday roast on a dark wood table
    56     I try to make sense of things by standing very close to windows
    58     Tell me if you prefer your carrots as sticks or coins
             and I’ll always remember
    59     Garments I have dreamed of but will