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Heavenly Bodies

I walked out to find the Universe
shredded upon the lawn.

Death had come to visit while I slept
and torn limb from tiny wing
all of creation, to leave
tiny sparkling galaxies
spiralling between
speedwell, knotgrass, and moss.

I watched constellations trickle into dust,
set my shoulders,
picked tiny bones from the ground,
and began again.


Terra Firma

Of all my new worlds,
you were foulest and best,

wine and brine and fish guts
running through your veins
and a mad builder trying
to carve his fevered dreams onto the sky,

endless knots unfurling under
my feet and waves on
the seabed overhead.

I drank your bitter coffee,
walked your baking streets,
and greeted your sparkling dead
in the calm of the morning.

Jane Crowley is deeply enthusiastic about tea, being in and around water, and things with wings (mechanical or avian). By day she is a marketer for a UK university. By night she writes poetry and other miscellaneous fragments that occasionally find a home and get published. You can find her on Twitter at @j_e_crowley.
Current Issue
3 Oct 2022

Lying in bed last night I felt fingers reach in, grabbing. I opened in spite of myself as you clawed me with your fingernails, flattened, panicked. Split throat, iron tongue, white masks ranged overhead, the rings on their fingers scraping me as they reached in to take you.
from my tower we climb, shroud as my veil. We leap on his fae steed
I tell smug Cyclops that I’m as gay as the next mutant, and that all mutants find themselves within battles
Get ready to feel hungry, because the theme for this quarterly roundup is food.
Wednesday: The Chosen and the Beautiful by Nghi Vo 
Wednesday: Where You Linger & Other Stories by Bonnie Jo Stufflebeam 
Issue 26 Sep 2022
Issue 21 Sep 2022
Issue 12 Sep 2022
Issue 5 Sep 2022
Issue 29 Aug 2022
By: Cat T.
Issue 22 Aug 2022
Issue 15 Aug 2022
Issue 8 Aug 2022
Issue 1 Aug 2022
Issue 18 Jul 2022
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