poetry by Ellora Sutton


Her hands silk my throat like syrup

leaving sticky sunspots, the hot honey drink

I spent my childhood believing medicinal,

fairy rings around my throat.


It is not soft. I do not want soft. Fuck soft.


There’s a poster on her wall. The anatomy of a flower.

So many parts, so much about pollen

and sex. Stamen, anther, stigma, ovule,

receptacle. Open and starving.

I turn to lilies for her.


Under the blaze of her fingernails

I am seen. I have never felt so beautifully seen.


I beg her with noises

to touch me until I am baptized

in the holy water of my sweat blessed with her sweat.


All I have ever wanted

is to exist.


Ellora Sutton

Ellora Sutton, 22, is a museum gift shop worker living in rural Hampshire, UK. Her work has been published by Lemon Star Mag, Paper Fox Lit Mag, Constellate Literary Journal, Eye Flash Poetry Journal, The Cardiff Review, and the Young Poets Network, among others.