by Tara Willoughby

some poisons, when

you drink them in,

get stored in your

fat



run-off from the wig factory got

into the river so now I

drink and drink and drink it dry

before it reaches the village downstream –

the dioxins and polychlorinated biphenyls and

arsenic to taste



all the village people

in their town all neat and tidy

always scurrying, never thinking

always thinking, never dreaming

always dreaming, never knowing

luscious locks blowing in

the breeze coming off the water



that toxic river water

it’s filling up my thighs

and belly and bingo wings like

a glow-in-the-dark fertility symbol

bulging and sloshing

I’m a human dam pushing back

holding up against the weight of

my lot in life



I do what has to be done

I always have done

what had to be done

I did



the real question is, what now?

I’ve got soft warm rolling thighs

full of sweet strong adipose and toxic slime

do I stay tainted, bulbous and glowing

a bright cold reminder

of poisons not forgotten?

or do I melt it down, eat it up,

let it escape into my urine and my blood?



heart racing, dizzy with the reality of

poison running free in the brain

poison twisting up the guts

poison pinching pricking the nerves

was this the right choice?

to choose two years of filling my resourceful body

with bile and venom

just a little each day

burning through kidneys and liver

as it leaves to go

looking for another river?



at least until the next time

when some nuisance

presses,

leans on,

finds the wrong button

up at the wig factory

then it starts again

and I will do

what will have to be done

I always do

and it’s never just

done

Tara Willougby has lived in Canberra for six years with her spouse and their cockatiel, Pooface. She works as a union organiser and is also a Girl Guide leader. Her work has previously been published in ByMePoetry and the anthology Stop Global Street Harassment: Growing Activism around the World.