POETRY
Cryptid Sister
by H.V. Patterson in Issue Twenty, July 2025
The summer Mom died,
I summoned you
From vulture feathers,
From discarded cicada husks,
From car-wrecked armadillos,
Legs surrendered to the eternal, burning sky.
I summoned you from the hole in my gut
Where my longing leaked out,
Where heat and humidity seeped in.
And you came,
You with legs of the maimed and discarded
You with insect song thrumming in your thorax
You with wings of oiled midnight.
You smelled of my decaying despair,
Of the unbearable weight of summer
The heaviness of air which would not rain.
When school started, my classmates mocked
The stench that clung to my pores,
The grit-grime of my neglected childhood.
But the grief which branded me outcast
Was my shield, too.
Beloved sibling, all I long for is night
When I crawl into your comforting embrace.
In the hot stink of your darkness,
At last, I am loved.
© 2025 H.V. Patterson
H.V. Patterson
H.V. Patterson (she/her) is a speculative poet, fiction writer, and playwright living in Oklahoma. Poetry credits include ETTT, Star*Line, Small Wonders and anthologies from Sliced Up Press, Angry Gable Press, and Black Spot Books. Her poem "Mother; Microbes" was selected for the inaugural Brave New Weird anthology from Tenebrous Press. She’s a cofounder of Horns and Rattles Press, and you can find her on X: @ScaryShelley, Instagram: @hvpattersonwriter, or at hvpatterson.com.