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'fingering to ed sheeran's shape of you' by Hollie McNish

i do not want fingered first today i do not want this fingering to be the warm-up band you arrive late for but have to watch a little bit of in order to get in a better position for the person you actually bought the tickets for
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'Everywhere' by Tom Jenks

I woke to find myself a member of Fleetwood Mac, round about the time of Tango in the Night. The band were kind, lending me scarves, bandanas and sunglasses, building up my strength with sausage and mash and special powders mixed with an ivory spoon.
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'the Lowest Note in the Universe' by SJ Kennedy Scott

in 2021, i am alone in my room on the ghost-street. i wake from the latest nightmare and shake with sweat. my heart is a rabbit with matted fur trying to escape my warren-chest. it wants out. so do i. in 2003, astronomers say they have heard the sound of a black hole singing. scientists crowd around the radio and listen. notes as pressure waves, steady and constant. this rabbit-heart is resolute. calm and collected.
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'Ode to the Women in the Bar Bathrooms' by Amy Kay

Buzzed and buzzing like crop top queens in a hive, holding broken stall doors, holding hair back holding hands. Ode to the women singing Beyonce into their mascara tubes, popping pieces of gum through blister packs, reaching across the sink, "Do you want one?"
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