A poem I wrote for Cordite Poetry Review. Published in time for poetry month!! August 2025

I needed to sh*t.

I’d been needing to since the park, but when I used the public bathroom there, I didn’t think I would have time (in case it was going to be a long one), so I pissed and held my a*****le tight.

To be fair, when I was in the park, it was definitely more of a poo that I was needing to do, but now it had escalated into a sh*t.

We all know the difference.

I dabble in woo-woo. I know my big three (Aries sun, Scorpio moon and Pisces rising). I’ve had a tarot deck since I was 15 when my friend and I both bought a deck from a self-proclaimed witch with long grey hair from a shop in Launceston. I frequently delete my Co-Star app and then re-download it whenever I want to be negged by my phone and the Co-Star copywriters. I fucken’ froth a sparkly rock. And I rewatch Practical Magic every year. 

You can spot a first date a mile away. It’s the nervous fidgeting that gives it away, that and the artificially loud laughter. The conversation is always falling out of sync too, with both people talking over the top of each other and prematurely changing topics, just in case any one topic runs out of juice and leads to silence. And this is why watching people on first dates is fun, in a gruelling glad-it’s-not-me kind of way.

But what every seasoned date spectator wants to know is: how’s the date going? Is he talking too much about his ex? Is she glancing too much at her phone? Will they bang? Or will one of them excuse themselves to go jump out the bathroom window?

Look, this article has gone semi-viral twice, the first time when it was published and the second time was after the 2024 budget. I'd be remiss to not include it, and If you want to read it, go ahead, but I'm not including a preview of the first paragraph.

I’m 25 and single. I’ve had plenty of boyfriends but now I’m alone again, and striving for that same thing I’ve been looking for since I was 15. Independence, self-worth, and someone to wrap myself around at night when it’s so cold that I can see my breath hovering above me in bed.