Size / / /

My crumbling walls are etched with voice:
hieroglyphs depicting song, wisdom, cruelty,
fusing cries and screams not hers.

Bodily fluids stained my floors as paint,
dark joys sealed, lacquering her soul.
Six hundred fell by her hand, she who loved me.

My grounds hide now, as they then, aging bones.
I became my lady's prison after trial,
restraining her desires, ensuring desolation.

Praying for revenge and light, she sang
and rambled as though they interchanged,
twisted dark with salvation water.

When the sun casts egress shadows on my face
she remains, silhouette searching, insatiable,
gazing at the village below.

No women from nearby come as tourists,
though some may be curious to glimpse her
just in case rumor is fact.




Jennifer Ruth Jackson can't draw or act, so she writes poems and short stories. Her work has been published in Star*LineFlashes in the Dark, and Kaleidoscope Magazine.  When she's not writing, you can catch her playing video games or making jewelry. She lives in Wisconsin with her husband and their houseplant, Hubey. Find her on the web at http://www.everythingitntales.blogspot.com.
Current Issue
16 May 2022

we are whispered into this new land, this old land, whispered anew
i tuck myselves under coffin nails. and then i am the sun like a nairobi fly, burning spine and skin.
The last deer in heaven flees, and Sestu pursues.
Issue 9 May 2022
Podcast: 9 May Poetry 
Issue 2 May 2022
By: Eric Wang
By: Sara S. Messenger
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Podcast read by: Sara S. Messenger
Issue 18 Apr 2022
By: Blaize Kelly Strothers
By: Ken Haponek
Podcast read by: Blaize Kelly Strothers
Podcast read by: Ken Haponek
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 11 Apr 2022
Issue 4 Apr 2022
Issue 28 Mar 2022
Issue 21 Mar 2022
By: Devin Miller
Art by: Alex Pernau
Podcast read by: Courtney Floyd
Issue 14 Mar 2022
Strange Horizons
Issue 7 Mar 2022
Strange Horizons
28 Feb 2022
We would like stories that are joyous, horrific, hopeful, despondent, powerful and subtle. Write something that will take our breath away, make us yell and cry. Write unapologetically in your local patois and basilects in space; make references to local events and memes to your heart’s content. Write something that makes you laugh and cry. Indulge in all the hallmarks of your heritage that you find yourself yearning for in speculative literature, but know that we will not judge you based on your authenticity as a Southeast Asian. 
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