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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
22 Apr 2024

We’d been on holiday at the Shoon Sea only three days when the incident occurred. Dr. Gar had been staying there a few months for medical research and had urged me and my friend Shooshooey to visit.
...
Tu enfiles longuement la chemise des murs,/ tout comme d’autres le font avec la chemise de la mort.
The little monster was not born like a human child, yelling with cold and terror as he left his mother’s womb. He had come to life little by little, on the high, three-legged bench. When his eyes had opened, they met the eyes of the broad-shouldered sculptor, watching them tenderly.
Le petit monstre n’était pas né comme un enfant des hommes, criant de froid et de terreur au sortir du ventre maternel. Il avait pris vie peu à peu, sur la haute selle à trois pieds, et quand ses yeux s’étaient ouverts, ils avaient rencontré ceux du sculpteur aux larges épaules, qui le regardaient tendrement.
We're delighted to welcome Nat Paterson to the blog, to tell us more about his translation of Léopold Chauveau's story 'The Little Monster'/ 'Le Petit Monstre', which appears in our April 2024 issue.
For a long time now you’ve put on the shirt of the walls,/just as others might put on a shroud.
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