Will Moran
Will Moran (they/he) is a writer and student living in…
They chose daffodils for the coffin. Yellow for spring,
baby’s breath tucked in with carnations. Never learned
baby’s breath tucked in with carnations. Never learned
the language of flowers. How strange,
detached, like watching a funeral
detached, like watching a funeral
via YouTube livestream. I would have buried her like mummies,
with tokens, trivial pursuit cards, monopoly money, Scrabble tiles
with tokens, trivial pursuit cards, monopoly money, Scrabble tiles
with the numbers scratched off. She didn’t need me when we played
but appreciated the company. Afterwards, pointed to the Westie plates
but appreciated the company. Afterwards, pointed to the Westie plates
on the wall – you’re the small one I’m the big one. You know
I love you. There’s a chance I would have loved her if she’d died
I love you. There’s a chance I would have loved her if she’d died
then. Laid bluebells on the grave. Forget-me-nots.
Would have visited on Mother’s Day.
Would have visited on Mother’s Day.
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Will Moran
Will Moran (they/he) is a writer and student living in Birmingham, UK. When he's not reading or writing, he finds inspiration in canalside walks, late night conversations, and Taylor Swift. Their work has appeared or is forthcoming in Honeyfire Lit, Gutslut Press, Death's Dormant Daughter and Fifth Wheel Press. They can be found on Twitter @will_meringue_