Bridget Gilmartin

one in the eye before breakfast
Bridget Gilmartin

–

golden hour at Altona Beach
seagulls screaming at each other
huge plastic ice-cream cone with
a cartoon face giving me a look like
what’s eating you
the sun a golden potato cake giving me
indigestion
thinking about how the other day
when you told me you loved me
but not romantically
it was at a café
that was really
really
excessively French
like national-flag-in-the-doorway French
which made the whole thing worse
which was partially my fault
because I said we should go there
but mostly
your fault
because you broke up with me
at the French café
and the waiter came over and she
said ‘is everything all good’ and I
said ‘yeah everything’s great’
but it wasn’t, because even though
the baguette was actually pretty good
trying to digest
what you said
and all that fucking bread
and you crying with your head
against the plastic café blinds
while the bell on the door
chimed
as people entered and
left
I was thinking about
how people enter
and leave your life
and how do you
return to business
as usual
with all these
footprints
on your heart.

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Bridget Gilmartin is a poet who lives in Melbourne. Her work has previously appeared in Cordite Poetry Review, Voiceworks and Small Arrangements. She is co-editor of Inhabit Journal, and an inaugural member of The Cooked Poets Society.