Rena Minegishi — "an aubade in seven four", 2013

this too: this too, shall start, like
Big Bang! or a birthday bash,
some hundred doves fired out
to festivals tomato-
coloured, expired tickets
in beaks. “oh!” people will cry,
till the carnivals grow meat-
ful, waltzing shoes snapped on; let’s
commence, shine onwards, like that
summer, my butterful babe,
when the bells of your eyes came
dazzling my sundried pavements.
“oh,” this too. “well.” and down to
Hell today will go but we
will have no “damn!” caught bet-
ween our teeth. spit the toothpaste.
come, there shall be a parade in-
stead. flip the eggs, love, don’t
leave them to smoke. button up
yourself. this too, shall begin.


Published in HOAX issue 3


we had a Google Doc. thought it was
ingenious that we could write in it
at once. in there we wrote love letters
to each other. you never capitalised anything.
I underlined your words. you liked to cut up my phrases,
italicised some. your sentences were lush
but in a way an abandoned field sings with flowers.
I let my pixels bloom unedited.

one day you climbed into my bed (finally body
to body), slowly knived me into wordless pieces
of flesh. I was waiting to kiss you. you fingered
my spilling veins, hit the backspace key.
nothing changed. you couldn’t edit me.
you cried: “if only I’d saved you as mine.”


We need to bring in £150 / $200 in donations a month to keep HOAX going.
If you'd like to see HOAX thrive, become a regular patron with a £3 / $4 monthly gift,
or leave us a one-off tip with Paypal: