Susannah Dickey is the author of two poetry pamphlets, both published with The Lifeboat press: I had some very slight concerns (2017) and genuine human values (2018). Her poetry has appeared online and in print in Ambit, Magma, The Scores, The White Review, Poetry Ireland Review, The Tangerine, Hotel. In 2018 she was the recipient of a SIAP award from the Arts Council and was shortlisted for The White Review Short Story Prize. She was also the winner of the inaugural Verve Poetry Festival competition.
H helps A get ready for the Judgment of Paris
Olives are cherries that weren’t loved enough as children.
The tin lid of the olive jar clacks with each
unscrewing; it must be lid mites. Might be. Cla-ahck, cla
-achk. How nice to be so loud and wrong and certain.
She taps the lid with a fingernail then a finger. Sometimes
there’s a conversation: I. am. here. I. wish.
you. weren’t. A is using smoking curling tongs. Her hairs
look like pickled snakes. Put that fucking jar down, she says.
Unpitted olives are blackberries with late stage Alzheimer’s.
Pitted olives are tardigrades with their black sun mouths
ajar. Tardigrade. Tartarus. Tartar sauce. Toys ‘R’ Us.
Etcetera. H is summoned to rub sun shimmer
on A’s shoulders. A’s skin smells like mice
and popcorn. H’s fingers smell like vinegar. Cla-ahck.