Extra Salt: A Painting by Sarah Faux — With Poetry by Rachel Hepburn and Anayis N. Der Hakopian
Extra Salt, Sarah Faux
“my body is a porno”
you say
slurp, gag, pull, ride, blow, suck, choke on it.
choke on what?
my pleasure
my discomfort
my humanity?
i guess
i have sexualised myself beyond the point of no return
where a nude looks like a handshake
where my body is yours, not mine
i can’t finish without knowing how it started -
me as a teacher, a preacher, a stepsister,
whatever fantasy a man has created for me next
porn hasn’t ruined sex for men, it’s ruined me.
you ask
‘what do you like in bed?’
i don’t know how to answer
without saying
the last thing i saw on screen
i say
release your promises to take a palmful of hair
let go of my hand to grab my throat instead
drop the respect you held for me on the floor,
so you can hold my tits better
porn hasn’t ruined sex for me, it’s ruined me.
tell me
i’m a bad girl, a good girl, just tell me
i’m a girl you want to fuck
i say
when you’re done, leave me
like i leave my porn -
closed down, deleted history,
a shame.
porn hasn’t ruined sex for men, it’s ruined me.
-Rachel Hepburn
“Spent Pages”
Your core is like that book
A classic, blacklisted, mismarked and found
The one that has been tossed about
Stuck at the bottom of that worn out bag
Hidden between its overcrowded matters
It moves around within its flowing contents
You know that book
Stationed, resting on the nightstand
From tousled and turned
To forgotten in seconds
Left abandoned on springing mattresses
Wrapped within the rested blankets
Misplaced and left unchecked
Unnerved ready to be read again
Impatiently waiting for its spine to be opened
The call for that story starts itching over
Climbing in envious clusters
Your body becomes the pages of motions
Full of banked exchanges
Flicked through
Run down
Thorn and trimmed
Sticky fingers
Circle stirring
Nail marking
Swollen lips
Thumbled words
Swallowed moans
Recto to verso
Inked quotes
Hungry hearts
And sounds quite unknown
Full of traded bookmarks
Made out of random grabbed things
That don’t fit
That don’t sit
That don’t do it justice
That don’t hold that passionate thought
But are all in grabbing distance
Making the world spin on its axis
Riddled with questions
Noted with mentions
Anguish at its chapters
Quivering for its ending
A muffle to the last paper sheet
Until that spine is cracked wide
With a collection of faint deepening lines
To its faded letters and bleeding ink
Till your pages are spent-
‘til that desire to read that book
Grows
Again and again.
-Anayis N. Der Hakopian
About the Artist
Sarah Faux is a painter living and working in Brooklyn, NY. Her fluid compositions teeter on the edge of reality, revealing how much of our emotional and sensory lives take place beneath the surface. Follow Sarah Faux on Instagram.
About the Poets
Rachel Hepburn lives in London and writes sad gal poetry in her spare time. She has previously placed in the6ress competition and had work featured in the 1998 and Honeyfire Literature Magazine. More of her writing can be found at @hepburnpoems on instagram.
Anayis N. Der Hakopian is a British Armenian director, 2D/mix media animator and writer based in London. When she isn’t stuck behind a computer screen she spends her free time writing poetry in the park whilst being mobbed by dogs. Follow more of her work here.
