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rubecso.bsky.social
Becca Miles
@rubecso.bsky.social
670 followers 1.1K following 240 posts
Writer and editor | Associate editor for @castofwonders.org | They / She | Performance poet | Autistic | Queer | Jewish

BUY MY POETRY BOOK (pls):
https://www.stairwellbooks.co.uk/product/steel-tipped-snowflakes-1/
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rubecso.bsky.social
I'm back in the archives (The Times this time) and I keep getting jump-scared by the name of this play from 1931.
July 29, 2025 at 2:38 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
I would like to pinch his cheeks
July 26, 2025 at 10:06 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
When the group chat's gotten downright טמא
Discord screen shot reading: "Alright, I'm off to bed, none of any of these words are in the Talmud (not even the Midrash), we need Moshiach now, I'm gonna go hide in the Chabad tunnels, I'm out of Jewish memes, good night"
July 16, 2025 at 9:36 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
is this something idk
Text: Rain and hot tears soaked my cheeks. My scarf was heavy on my head. I pulled it down. Someone splashed past, shooting me a wary look from under his hood. I recognised him as the brewer from whom my father bought his schnapps. How soon, he must have thought, has the mad Jew’s daughter gone mad herself with grief.
July 15, 2025 at 7:56 AM
rubecso.bsky.social
Would you keep reading from this opening?

Tentatively having another go at my novel 'Frankenstein's Golem.

#amwriting #writingcommunity #speculativefiction
Text: “Why doesn't your father come himself?” asked the porter at Ingolstadt University. Because he's dead beneath the ground, and has been less than a week, yet instead of sitting shiva here I am chasing up his debts. I didn't say that, because as useless as my father had been, he did leave me with a few good lessons. One of them was to never let a goy know your bargaining position, especially if it's a weak one. I didn't know if the porter would know the ins and outs of Jewish residency permits, if he could figure out that my time left in Ingolstadt was limited by the Prince’s patience. But why risk it? “He’s busy,” I replied, unblinking. There, let him think me the messenger of an important scholar with little time on his hands, rather than the beggar daughter of a dead madman.
June 29, 2025 at 11:09 AM
rubecso.bsky.social
Would you keep reading from this opening?

Tentatively having another go at my novel 'Frankenstein's Golem.

#amwriting #writingcommunity #speculativefiction
Text: “Why doesn't your father come himself?” asked the porter at Ingolstadt University. Because he's dead beneath the ground, and has been less than a week, yet instead of sitting shiva here I am chasing up his debts. I didn't say that, because as useless as my father had been, he did leave me with a few good lessons. One of them was to never let a goy know your bargaining position, especially if it's a weak one. I didn't know if the porter would know the ins and outs of Jewish residency permits, if he could figure out that my time left in Ingolstadt was limited by the Prince’s patience. But why risk it? “He’s busy,” I replied, unblinking. There, let him think me the messenger of an important scholar with little time on his hands, rather than the beggar daughter of a dead madman.
June 29, 2025 at 11:05 AM
rubecso.bsky.social
If I get literally nothing else done today, at least I achieved a killer bilingual pun.
A screenshot of a discord exchange - User 1: Lost in the (cheese) sauce) The fondue, as it were Wait Hang on I gotta google something so I can know if a pun works User 2: I adore you User 1: (in all caps) PERDU DANS LA FONDUE
May 26, 2025 at 1:35 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
My new phone case is splendidly decorated thanks to @margueritekenner.bsky.social and @alasdairstuart.com's generous gift of stickers 😁
May 15, 2025 at 8:28 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
Didn't expect to write a #napowrimo poem today but this one wanted to exist.

No prompt but the general horrors.

CW for internalised misogyny / cissexism

#napowrimo2025 #poem #writingcommunity
Text: 24.4.2025 – tbd Forgive me, my love. You often stroke the fine hairs on my chin. I stopped shaving to give you more to play with. Today, in the ladies’ toilet, I saw a stranger’s eyes flick down and up again. My mind betrayed me. It might be safer (in these times) to try and look more “biological”.
April 24, 2025 at 5:13 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
Another sponsored #napowrimo poem, this time by my friend Teddy who asked for one about our LARP characters Adeline and Solomon.

Yiddish terms:

"Meyn teyerer" = "my dear"
"schmattes" = "rags, made from scraps"

#napowrimo2025 #poetry #writingcommunity
Text: 23.4.2025 - ADELINE AND SOLOMON Meyn teyerer, why do you visit me in this smoky city so far from where our wedding was blessed? In Odessa, your eyes were black as the clay on the banks of the Dnieper. Here, they are brown like your rye bread, which I have not tasted in years, and here is your hand on my chest, fixing a button on my sooty schmattes jacket, and you say I look thin and tired. But teyerer, why is your voice in the throat of a woman who never spoke Yiddish before, who looks at me with such soft sadness, when I call her by your name?
April 23, 2025 at 5:44 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
Today's #napowrimo poem is another sponsored one. My friend Jenna requested one about her LARP character Juniper, and since I play a poet in that game I decided to write it in-character. #napowrimo2025 #poetry #writingcommunity
Text: 22.4.2025 - OBSERVATIONS OF A PAINTER AT WORK (II) An image sparks your mind and electrifies your mouth, vitality twitching in your grin. Sketchbook on your lap, you pull your smile in, as you do when putting lipstick on. Bent over an unruly canvas, you bite your lip with such ferocity it makes me flinch, as if you were digging into my own flesh. When satisfied, your lips curl back, revealing your tongue’s pink tip between your bright teeth. Belladonna, you need not tell me how your work progresses. You have done it without uttering a word. Even so: tell me again. J.B, 1931
April 22, 2025 at 5:51 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
Ohhhh there was some sapphic drama going down in 1931.

(I'm back on British Newspaper Archives. Send a search party if I'm not back in a week.)
A screenshot of an old newspaper, text reading: SO far as lies in my power, my contribution to the Garbo- Dietrich controversy shall be reasoned, impartial, and judicious. Having many years ago done my bit in the
April 22, 2025 at 12:12 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
Today's sponsored #Napowrimo poem is for my friend Wol, who picked the topic. #napowrimo2025 #poetry #writingcommunity
Text: 21.4.2025 - MAENAD (For Olwen) She stands with arms outspread, screaming hideous delight to a world that wants her dead and for a second I see snakes coiling round her head, smell the blood of tyrants ripped apart by prey they failed to fear, hear the drums thumping in my chest, and their rhythm is the rhythm of her defiant roar: WE WILL NOT GO QUIETLY. WE WILL NOT GO AT ALL.
April 21, 2025 at 6:42 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
Another sponsored poem for trans rights. My friend Jess requested the topic of Injustice. Felt appropriate to bump it up the list for today. #napowrimo2025 #napowrimo #poems #writingcommunity
Text: 20.4.2025 - INJUSTICE When a howl is clawing up your throat, listen. Your lungs hold more love than your heart. They will warn you when the wolf’s jaws have got your flock by the neck. Don't forget: the first lesson you ever learned was how to scream.
April 20, 2025 at 11:39 AM
rubecso.bsky.social
This Napowrimo poem is dedicated to @elliesparrowart.bsky.social, who bought a sponsored poem slot by donating to a trans rights charity.

Ellie gave me free reign so I did an ekphrastic poem based on one of their paintings (linked below).

www.elliesparrowart.com/portfolio/or...
Text: 19.4.2025 - CHANGE (For Ellie Sparrow) I saw a rock face smile as it split apart. Its stone lips, its mossy brows, shifted with a crack that echoed in my bones. Its eyelid boulders rolled back and let a rivulet flow down its carved cheeks. A glowing fissure opened wide, and from the wound escaped a winged figure, who left its broken mountain prison smiling, far below.
April 19, 2025 at 6:01 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
Little #napowrimo poem for today. Jumped off from the prompt "Write about your favourite meal/snack" from hiitssky on Instagram.

#poetry #napowrimo2025 #writingcommunity
Text: 17.4.2025 - VESTIGE Under siege, I retreat to the heartland of my eating habits. Crackers and jelly. Dry / wet. Snap / slurp. Ying / yang.
April 17, 2025 at 2:37 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
Back to #napowrimo after taking a break to be violently ill for a few days. Todays is from the prompt "What is the light you're walking towards?" #poetry #napowrimo2025 #writingcommunity
Text: 16.4.2025 - IT'S NOT ONE LIGHT it's scattered pinpricks in the dark, flickering in and out, sputtering candles with hands cupped around, lighting off each other when the wind blows them out, trusting there'll be enough to keep the constellation going.
April 16, 2025 at 3:57 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
Today's #napowrimo poem is prompted by me getting Olaria Olara by Daniel Kahn and the Painted Bird stuck in my head. #napowrimo2025 #poetry #writingcommunity
Text: 9.4.2025 - [TBD] (After Daniel Kahn) Olaria olara, daffodils and fa-la-la, oh the daffodils are growing on the verges, I can see them through the window of the train. Spring is here and soon it will be Pesach, and in Gaza bombs are falling once again.
April 9, 2025 at 4:38 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
#napowrimo poem for today. Not from a prompt, it just came to me. #napowrimo2025 #poetry #writingcommunity
Text: 8.4.2025 - TO THE MAN WHO SITS BEHIND ME ON THE BUS every day I get to hear what phrase your tongue is playing with. Today it's … snakes don't snakes don't snakes don't walk they don't walk they snakes dont walk they don't walk they slither, slither, slither… my favourites are the ones where I can feel the shape in my own mouth … snakes don't walk walk waaaalk snakes don't snakes snaaaake-ke-ke-ke they ssssssslithhhher… you say them again and again, until they aren't words anymore … snakes don't, snakestone, snakestownt snakestowntwork snakestowntworkthay slitherslitherslitherslither… I wish I could join in with you with you with you withyuuwithoo withwithwithwith join in with you.
April 8, 2025 at 4:51 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
Two #napowrimo poems today, cause I missed a day yesterday. #napowrimo2025 #poetry #writingcommunity
Text: 5.4.2025 - THE FOURTH NEURODIVERGENT LOVE LANGUAGE, OR: please crush my soul back into my body, my limbs are floating. Drag them down and hold them under smooth, cool stones, please crush my soul back into my body, I need to be engulfed. My mind is leaking, seeping through my skin, hold me in, please crush my soul back into my body, lie flush against my chest and hum a long, low note that thrums to my knees, please crush my soul back into my body, and when you're done, see if you can squeeze in here with me. Text: 6.4.2025 - [TITLE TBD] Enheduanna, you told your father, self-proclaimed King of the Universe, that when you signed your name – [A string of cuneiform characters] En - he - du - an - na “Ornament of Heaven” at the end of your latest hymn, that you’d created something no one else had thought of: an author. Forty-three centuries later, your creature still haunts us, despite our best efforts to kill it. (Becca Miles)
April 6, 2025 at 4:44 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
#napowrimo poem for today. Still using hiitssky on Instagram's prompts. Today's was 'Borrow an image from last night's dream'.

Conveniently, I'm having particularly vivid dreams at the moment.

#napowrimo2025 #poetry #writingcommunity
Text: 4.4.2024 - DREAM BOARS Sun bleached stone ruins, yellowed grass beneath bare feet, cool shade beneath a half-crumbled archway. Somewhere, a blue harbour, and before a rushing weir, crashing beneath a metal grate underfoot, cutting in. Between, a line of horses leading a procession of boars, honoured beasts with broad, brown backs. Are they going to the water or the stones? You wake before you know.
April 4, 2025 at 5:58 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
Today's #napowrimo poem. Ohhhhh it's a soppy one 😛 #napowrimo2025 #poetry #writingcommunity
Text: 3.4.2025 - LUCKY Sat up, lamp on, trapped in sleepless limbo. The door opened enough to let in a black cat. Leo, the shy one, attracted by the light, jumped up and settled on the bed. I felt the weight and warmth of a creature who chose to give them to me. “I'm so lucky.” Fifteen years later, another dark-haired creature curls up next to me at night. But you (my love) you say it back.
April 3, 2025 at 2:28 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
#napowrimo rough poem for April 2. Chose the words 'clay', 'gesture' and 'remedy' from the prompt here: www.instagram.com/p/DHrNURGBaN...

(anyone who knows me would know I'd see 'clay' and have to write about this 😅)

#poetry #nanowrimo2025
Text: Kneeling by the river, I take a handful of wet, red clay, and with a practiced gesture, patch over the latest crack in my mud body, my old remedy, clay fingers on clay skin. I find a fingerprint, on my rib. I thought they were all covered, years of smeared repairs, but there it is, the pressed-in remains of a man whose hands have long been unmade by the earth he made me from. Humans do not grow old. They shrink. (I think a lot about words – along with clay, they are what I am made of.) I grow old, I expand, I add to myself, with layers more like the ancient Methuselah tree than the people my body mimics. I break and remake myself. My light will not fade. I take from the earth and am not unmade. I bake in the sun but do not breathe as trees or people do. When these are taken by fire or rain I will remain. I am and I will be a beautiful blasphemy.
April 2, 2025 at 4:32 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
#napowrimo rough poem for April 1. Prompt was "Start today's poem with a lie", from this list: www.instagram.com/p/DHrNURGBaN...

#poetry #nanowrimo2025
Text in one, centre-aligned block without punctuation other than apostrophes: I'm not tired it's just my heart won't stop quivering fist-sized lump of meat and electricity poor thing's doing its best it just wasn't built for 2025 I'm not tired it's just taking a few microseconds longer for the ion channels in my nerves to creak open and pass my thought-sparks down the wire I'm not tired I just need to read the scriptures backwards to find the secret name of whatever vitamin I'm deficient in I'm not tired I'm just missing something something’s holding up the production chain some shipping channels blocked I'm not tired it's just some skirmish on the straits of my synapses I'm not tired I just need to drink more water get some fluid to the hydraulics I'm not tired I just can't stop thinking about that machine scraping blood that wasn't blood back into its body again and again I'm not tired
April 2, 2025 at 4:28 PM
rubecso.bsky.social
#WIPsnip from the draft chapters of 'Frankenstein's Golem' that I wrote for my dissertation. With how the story's re-shaping itself in my head, this conversation would probably take place later in the story. #writingcommunity
Text: 'Yes. But also--' I crumpled my apron as I tried to put my feelings into words. Yet even those feelings seemed to slip from my grasp. Which part of the creature made my stomach tremble? I kept thinking of those pale eyes, but that made no sense; they were the most human part of him. It was their placement that was wrong, in that yellow face with blood vessels pulsing just beneath the surface of his skin. 'I can't tell what he is.' I concluded, lamely. 'Before he woke, he seemed like... like a corpse. Then, like some kind of animal. But he listens, and he learns, and when he speaks I see a man.' Mordecai didn't reply at first, instead responding with a slow, deep nod. He sat down on the edge of his bed with his hands on his knees as he pondered my words. 'So we're unsure what he is,' he said when his musing was done. 'Dr. Weiss will return this evening. He's a smart man, I'm sure he'll find an answer. It might be our guest is just a man. An stranger, one with some odd affliction, but a man nonetheless. Until we know more, I believe we should treat him as such.'
March 28, 2025 at 12:18 PM