Hot Cross Buns

Lulu Fitz (she/her)

@lambie____

Lulu Fitz (she/her) is an artist currently studying Theatre at the Victorian College of the Arts, whilst writing and performing on the stolen lands of the Wurudjeri people of the East Kulin nation. Her work has previously been published in FairlyLowTemp (France) Gems Zine (Australia) , Sour Cherry Mag (Australia) and Ultramarine Collective’s Sixth Sense open source zine (Australia). She writes under the pseudonym Lambie on Instagram.

Do you remember when I took the last hot cross bun?

As I had one in my mouth

You snatched the other off my plate,

Tore it up into tiny pieces

And sprinkled them over a Sunday lamb carcass in the bin

I threw a glass of orange juice at you

You hit me over the head

I had hid the buns the night before

Underneath the 2-minute noodles

Behind the fish sauce and mustard

I knew you’d want them in the morning

So when you spotted them in my mouth

You starting breathing fire

Singeing off my eyebrows

And my terrible sense of humour

I'll admit

It was deceitful to hide the buns

So very calculated and cold of me to go behind your back

YOU ARE SO FAT AND UGLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You said

           

I started to cry because even though I wanted to annoy you,

I didn’t want to make you nasty

I never wanted to see you like that

Last week I went to the supermarket

I bought the buns we liked

I took them home

Placed them on my desk

Next to the two hundred grams of smoked almonds (that taste like bacon)

You would love them

By three o’clock, the buns were still there

I thought about piercing the packet’s translucent membrane

With craft scissors

But I didn’t

I don’t even like hot cross buns

They tasted better knowing I’d lose an arm and a leg to get one

Being annoying

Is just love persevering

I was doing you a favour

Because I would be leaving soon

You didn’t know it yet

And all of the times when we’d throw remote controls at each others heads

Quarrel over which sister the dog loves more

The times when we’d lock each other out in the cold

Throw towels onto the deck for each other because mum doesn’t like wet footprints in the house

Would accumulate into a dust mountain so very tall

That I’d no longer be able to see the lightness of your baby hairs

Or reach my palm out

To feel your fingers stretch over mine

Isn’t that a beautiful thing?

To be separated from someone by a mountain of memory?

A mountain of distance and love

The mountain of us gets taller

Through memes of ducks

And pixelated maths help

Our snow capped peak shines the brightest

And when you start to feel like

You don’t know me anymore

I hope you look at mountains

And think of me

How it’s been an honour to carve out those nooks and edges

With Cartoon Network

And handstand competitions

Next time when I come home

I'll bring a bag of hot cross buns

I hope that by then we wouldn’t claw each other for them

I think we should for old times sake

Maybe I should let you have them

After all,

I don’t even like hot cross buns

I just liked growing up

and growing older

with you

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