Reader Submission: He Knew


[image description: in the middle of the drawing are three faces, they are all of the same person, but with different facial expressions - the one on the furthest left is smiling, in the middle is crying and the one furthest right is frowning. The faces are predominantly blue, with the exception of his tears, which are yellow. Above and below the faces are yellow hands. To the north-east and north-west above the heads are glasses of liquid (probably alcohol), with the drink spilling out of the glass. In both bottom corners of the image are bikes, facing each other. Streetlamps are in the background of both sides of the image. It is clear the artist has tried to make this image symmetrical, with small differences, such as the facial expressions.]

Reader Submission by Olaf Wijbenga.
Cover art by Daisy Boston.



In the past week, a girl I loved left for England and we had to break up. She was a year older and went off to start an art and phycology degree at Reading. We had been dating for a year and a half and knew this day would come but I didn't know it would hurt like this. The following day I got piss drunk with my friends because she had left and on my bike home I crashed into a poll and scratched up my face because of it. At that moment, almost a cliche, she came to mind and that's what the poem is about, me bloody on the floor thinking about her. I am Olaf Wijbenga, I'm 17 and I live in the Netherlands and I hope you enjoy my ramblings. 



He Knew 

In his marrow bone, the zest of his word is gone 

The moths have come and dined on his face 
and left the rest of his young body to the grey griefing hounds 

and in the ruckus of rushing blood
and the splintering of his skim nails 
and the rhythmic black rumbling in his frail brine 

it was about her 

he knew how you know when the light falls right. 
he knew in his zestless word and mist of his last silk shrowd 
and in the thin applause of his mocked heart

and on that ashen road under the violet light
and silent hum from the masses and kingdoms that now became him 

he could only ease his grip and drown 
 in the soft home of that bed of daisies 

he knew
it took his life and the shattering of his tongue to know that endless purist 
but in that solemn empty second, 
he knew her


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