I can’t swallow anymore. I can barely suck in a breath through airways that are clogged with comb. I feel movement everywhere, little legs, tiny wings that long to beat in the air. When I open my mouth, bees fly out and in. I can’t sit still. I buzz wherever I go.
I refuse to be quieted by what quiets my thirst.
some sweet taboo silhouetted against red temptation
Podcast: 6 June Poetry
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Ciro Faienza presents the poetry of the 6 June issue.