partial memories of friday night by Liz Duck-Chong

i fell asleep on a train,
woke up in a new place,
well, not a new place, but i
didn’t have all my bearings – a
place less travelled, found
my way back where i’d
come from, wrapped in
scarves slowly unravelled.

the bus fell halted, held
askew, we watched the
view, two headlights illuminated
a brick wall and shop, it
had spun like a star out
ahead of us til a full stop.
then drove into the night.

i leaned into a shoulder,
passing lights overhead as
we swam into the sounds
of an album growing older;
she held me, an inverse,
i’d usually hold her, i told
her, she laughed. i leaned
harder, felt colder.

i divulged a whole secret,
there’s not that many left
but i’d managed to keep it
held tight to my chest as
a symbol of individuality,
let it boil inside me, gently
steep it. maybe it changed
me, i’m not sure. yes i mean


Originally published in CQ5: Poetry.

Liz Duck-Chong | she & they | 5
Liz is a writer, sexual health nerd and filmmaker who has had articles, poetry and essays in a range of publications. She co-hosts wholesome sex ed show @letsdoitpodcast, and is on Twitter at @lizduckchong.

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