Something covered his face, a flash of green, of something grotesque— something cartoon bright and monstrous, like a grinning snake or sharp-chinned goblin. The screen door's springs screeched, rusty. The hard slam sang out a full acre, calling rise to the cricket and frog songs from the marshland nearby. Fresh windrows were long, thin slashes between the house and … Continue reading Augury (at childhood’s end)
Tag: dark poetry
They ran barefoot in the summertime in packs like stray dogs, ragged and dirty, and there were leaders and followers. Each fell into place warrior and peacemaker, alike, the way that young women do when left good and alone. They hunted, too, though, if asked, they couldn't tell you just what. No, it was in the motions; the movement was what mattered, especially … Continue reading Xenomancy
The place smelled like rust, from pipes overhead. It was hell when you got that scent up your nose, when the smell settled in your mouth. There were no locks on the door, so anyone could enter, all. Old paper boxes, clumped newspaper grew mildew and something else, something noisome that clung to our hair … Continue reading Katabasis
There’s a metallic buzz under the nighttime sound, the sundown hum— the scratchy beating of wings, like cross-legged sitting, singing into whirling metal blades. It’s a static voice, an electric device pressed hard against a wounded, smokey throat to crackle thoughts. I shoo it from my ears like flies when it draws too near, when I am … Continue reading Temenos
“He has been called the Father of all the Gods, but most of his children have been stillborn.” -Saki, from The Music on the Hill She stole grapes from the market, the darkest ones with seeds to spit after— the fat, purple ones with tight skin pulled over meaty flesh, round, ready to split. She half-expected to pluck … Continue reading Black Sun
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