Crista Ermiya is originally from London and now lives in Newcastle upon Tyne. 
She is a co-editor of Other Poetry magazine, the co-ordinator for 
Independent Northern Publishers, and has recently set up dogeater poetry press. 
Her poetry was included in  A Taste of Liquorice (Identity on Tyne 2004), 
an anthology of poetry and short fiction by writers of colour in north east England.
Like everyone else she has met in Newcastle, Crista is currently working on a novel.
 

Ex-libris or 
Reading by Osmosis

Keep stacking books
you never read, until
warped shelves store words
for so long 
you start to believe
you have read them.
Imagine you know their contents
inside out,
the quirks of their storylines
and stanzas.
Come to insist
they are a part of you,
a definition of who you are.
Ignore the fact they’re not.
Ignore the fact they’re just 
a list of things
you haven’t got round to.
Stock up on 3 for 2 offers,
seek out remaindered 
pre-pulp poetry.
Go to Ikea,
buy more shelves.
 

Capitoline Venus

Hands clasped over
her breasts and
the other place,
legs pockmarked with age,
varicose-veined,
stained the colour 
of weak tea.
Naked as the day she was born,
vulnerable stance,
one leg bent forward
slightly at the knee.
Yet defiant, curled lip
well, she is a goddess after all
like the curls in her hair.

Stonework and marble
no better than she should be
seaweed and shell
stench of the sea.
 

How to create a Superhero

Sit quiet in your chair.
Be still. Don’t twist.
I’ll fetch you later.
Be a good girl.

So you sit so quiet,
good at being good,
invisibility becomes 
your special power.

Later, you learn 
to not look in mirrors, 
grow afraid
you have no reflection;
or worse, 
afraid that you do,
image like kryptonite,
cannot tolerate eye contact 
with yourself.