The Ofi Press Magazine

International Poetry and Literature from Mexico City

Lydia Hounat: 1 Poem Published

Poem by Lydia Hounat (UK/ Algeria)

Published in The Ofi Press issue 41





When Tristan rocks on his chair,

He kicks the air in the gut, 

Dust motes splutter out their insides,

Atoms retch. 

Then I know this mustn't be possible,

So I pop a



I dance with Tristan when he cries, 

He grins, blending into the red soles of his eyes. 

But his curly hair morphs into horns,

Bloodshot skin, eyes as heavy pitch,

I drop him,

Then I know this mustn't be possible,

So I pop a 



I see white vans crashing into the brick wall,

But the bricks have straw stuffed inside them,

And the sofa is melting into a blood pot,

My husband is a crack cocaine addict I once dated, 

When I kiss him he stinks of ecstasy and shooting stars,

He crumbles into angel dust. 

My geraniums spill pus,

I must take another 



But knives shakily ask for a hug,

So I hold and squeeze my little dagger tight,

To my right arm I can see a red rose
Blooming across my veins, 

Outstretching the palms of my cheeks, 

My pill shifts over, shrugging, 
Shaking his tranquiliser beads like a common samba,

I take him, but my snake-throat can't swallow,
He buries himself, stuck in my pretty tube, splits himself into


About the Poet

Lydia Hounat is a British-Algerian poet from Manchester, England. She has been published with Myths of the Near Future: Dystopia, The Cadaverine, Ink, Sweat & Tears, with an upcoming publication from Brain of Forgetting. An avid performance poet, she has worked with the Manchester Literature Festival showcasing slam pieces with authors and poets, and regularly performs in bars and cafés. At 17, she received a Williams Senior college prize for her contributions to the exploration of creative endeavour in poetry.

Image: "Pills" by Dean Hochman.