Size / / /

There is a thread between us,
Taut with fate, red as blood.
A push & pull,
Attraction, rejection.
But I think we’re wrong
For each other.
I am the hart and you are the hunter.

I might have wanted you and your
Tender touch, nuzzling at
My white throat
My slender limbs.
But I think you wanted more
to possess my body, soul and
I cannot be owned.

So I fled your grasping hands to avoid
The broken dreams, bitter bones
And your anger
like rocks thrown.
You gave chase, the hot pursuit
Nipping at my heels.

Through fields and over hills I ran
Like nymphs and ill-fated maids,
Fleet-footed to
The ancient forest
Where witches once played. For
Sanctuary I prayed.

Butterflies and pulses fluttering,
We stirred the forgotten spaces.
You, unrelenting
Me, unforgiving
Ashes, an all consuming fire.
Regret like cobwebs of us.

All things cycle, even this, us
Desire to love to fear to
Burning want,
Breathless need.
Between the blazing trees, our eyes lock
Something flickers in me.

Sometimes it's not the devil you meet
In the dark and wild places.
Wolf mother
Lunar archer
I found my horn-crowned
Chthonic goddess.

There is a bowstring between us,
Taut with power, red as blood.
A draw & release
Agitation, transformation
And I think we're wrong
For each other.
You are the hart and I am the hunter.




Alice is a Taiwanese-American poet whose work has appeared in Strange Horizons, Liminality, Polu Texni, and Through the Gate. She loves magic, myth, and women who persist. She hates running. You can find her online at Girl On The Roam (girlontheroam.wordpress.com) or perennially on Twitter @kangaru, chatting about books and superheroes.
Current Issue
25 Mar 2024

Looking back, I see that my initial hope for this episode was that the mud would have a heartbeat and a heart that has teeth and crippling anxiety. Some of that hope has become a reality, but at what cost?
to work under the / moon is to build a formidable tomorrow
Significantly, neither the humans nor the tigers are shown to possess an original or authoritative version of the narrative, and it is only in such collaborative and dialogic encounters that human-animal relations and entanglements can be dis-entangled.
By: Sammy Lê
Art by: Kim Hu
the train ascends a bridge over endless rows of houses made of beams from decommissioned factories, stripped hulls, salvaged engines—
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