The Space inside your Skull

Hannah Parcell is in the final year of her degree in English Language with Creative Writing.

A pink marshmallow jelly

with synapses

sprinkling chemicals,

igniting neuron arbors.

Pulses of crackling, candy, connections -


All this temptation resting in my lap

cupped in skull and skin.

If I peeked in

would it be like a city at night?

Could it reveal the universe?

Black dwarves of dead skills,

protostars of new ideas

amongst the sparkling darkness.

If I cut you open

would movies of memories shine out?

(An over-head projector, you might say.)

To slice through skin.

To grind against skull.

For fingers to fight membrane,

gloved in blood and fluid.

To feel the warmth of who

you really are.