A MILLION WORLDS - maddie gorman


maddie gorman

She thinks of needles and honeycomb, big balloon sized rain drops, heavy footed nouns falling clumsy on her head and that’s why it throbs at night while she tries to fall asleep, chasing birds of thought in every direction, grasping at their blurry feathers, squeezing her eyes so tight that little droplets of color appear, birthed out of a blank screen, mutating as if to music. She tugs at her pubic hair softly, individually and methodically, compulsively out of a habit so strong she wakes in the morning with her hand inside her underwear, cupping her mound gently as if to protect it from the damage of post-apocalyptic earth, alien invasions, and mass kidnappings, often including a chase scene. Even in her sleep she knows her heart circles in little catapults, propelling her weightless mind-body through vast, maze-like escapes with danger at every turn.

Maddie Gorman
Jeanette Winterson