Midwich Roost

by Luke Bartolo

In the cavity of my chest
where my heart once heaved
a little potato grows
with its own dirt
and pea-green tendrils.
It needs no light,
no food, water, or love;
it is a lumpy misshapen nut
of self-sufficient choler
and birdlimed blood.
Grow potato you stunted fucking thing.
Shoot out each creeping root
between each concrete rib.
 
Do something.
Anything.
 
Adumbrate the space left
by my beating former self.
Let me trickle away
like ice under the baleful glare
of a triumphant bastard star.
Be a plant.
And let the meat have peace.

Poet biography:
Luke Bartolo is a writer and illustrator living in Western Sydney, Australia. He has written both fiction and non-fiction for a range of publications such as English in Australia, Cambridge University Press’s Checkpoints series, Into English, the journals mETAphor and Teaching History, and the Western Sydney University textbook Charged with Meaning. His writing draws upon history, science, and mental illness.