Rachel O’Neill

The sky is a wide, unmoving chest A woman in a yellow sundress wakes in pale arms. She tells her mother she fell into a meat processing plant. Men, cleavers and carcasses went to and fro. I had tea with the foreman, she says. I tested the conveyor belt and found it hairless. I said some things I shouldn’t, she says, I said I wanted to go home. The foreman knew I didn’t mean it and pinched the flesh on my arm. Well done, her mother says. Just look at you, all yellow in your meat & bone.    

Rachel O’Neill

As I lay dying in the afternoons As I lay dying in the afternoons, and then for a short time in the mornings, I took to laughing almost inaudibly to myself. These outbursts were timed with Helios’ chariot. As dusk and dawn clattered overhead certain of my memories stuck fast in his wheels and went round and round. As a boy I stole a bike and pedalled it down the steepest hill in our town. I turned a corner and the earth came at me with a wall. I left hospital with a small something or other carefully wrapped in“Rachel O’Neill”

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