The Blood Tithe

By J.D. Harlock in Issue Seven, November 2022

when the smog finally devoured the dying sun,
the creatures of the night
made a throne of the carnage
and a kingdom of the earth

S— Estate, After

By Sarah Cannavo in Issue Seven, November 2022

The dark house sits brooding, high on the hill;
heedless of time passing, of age and decay,
my love walked its halls—he’s roaming them still.

Time Travel

By Ashley Gilland in Issue Seven, November 2022

*Dedicated to my five-year-old self

It’s always me
in my carrot cake tweed jacket
its caramel collar taut around my neck
speckled with goosebumps

One-Way, Through the Fire

By Lin Darrow in Issue Seven, November 2022

It’s the first thing they tell you in Temporal Navigation 101:

Time is water,
But it knows no gentle ebb,
Only the rage and riot of rapids.
You can’t go back, the Temporists say;
The currents are too strong.

My FEMA trailer

By Gary Bloom in Issue Seven, November 2022

Early in the morning
I can hear my neighbor’s TV
Reverberating through the tin foil
Walls of her FEMA trailer

Paradiso: A Found Cyborg Poem

By Tiffany Morris in Issue Seven, November 2022

(taken from 2020s advertisements)

it’s written in the stars:
the ingeniously simple
magnetic mechanism
of the making process —

Let the Water in

By Vanessa Jae in Issue Six, September 2022

The earth tears at her concrete visage
until she can breathe through the cracks.

Listen to the viscous vows of retaliation
she presses through her stuffed throats:

send down the rain is no song when the belly goes to war

By the_people in Issue Six, September 2022

zephyr sings a lullaby into my body
that she may light my eyes and dulcify my tongue

don't listen to her—
⁠the aphorism of my stomach roared in hurt
and reluctantly, i was submerged in its words:

Factory Reset

By RC deWinter in Issue Six, September 2022

Those who know tell us it will rain for days
as the west burns in the unrelieved heat of the sun –
all of this beyond our control thanks to the willingness
of a handful to profit by whatever means possible.

Two Beaches

By Devin Miller in Issue Six, September 2022

I want to show you the beach
that has been with me since I was in utero.
Now I carry it inside me in my turn:
the rocks, the barnacles with their
fronds and sharp edges,