By Briony Bunker

I expected hormonal magic. Candyfloss, cut grass on a summer evening, 

freshly baked bread. One of those sea breezes where the salt stings your face.

Not soil and iron, earth and blood, the taste of my own insides.

Later, there was washing powder, milk, a full nappy.

But others held her, closed their eyes, smiled and sighed.

Now I know. They were back, just for a moment, in some desolate, unending night.

Alone in a messy room, or the whole world, 

with their baby nestled in their arms, sleeping soundly.

Briony Bunker

Briony Bunker is a writer from the Midlands, now living in London. Her work has appeared in an anthology by Grind and Bearing. She is currently trying to find time to write whilst keeping a tiny human alive.

Support Dear Damsels

Words are empowering – not only for the women who write them, but those who read them too.

Join our Patreon and help us continue to offer an inclusive and welcoming space for women to come together, share their words, and get a resounding response back.

Sign up to our Patreon