Size / / /

Was this what you heard, Edvard Munch,

in that moment

when vision shrieked like a mad sunflower,

when the air turned blood

& event horizons

shimmered in the sunset?

Paint maelstroms into Milky Ways,

a bridge redshifts toward oblivion—

misshapen O

of summary horror,

parenthetical hands quoting void.

At the marrow of nature is death,

& you needed

no dismembered star to guide you:

you shared this galaxy's

endless scream

from the black hole of your birth.




Ann K. Schwader lives, writes, and volunteers at her local branch library in Westminster, CO. Her most recent poetry collection is Twisted in Dream (Hippocampus Press 2011). Her dark SF poetry collection Wild Hunt of the Stars (Sam's Dot Publishing, 2010) was a Bram Stoker Award nominee. She is a member of SFWA, HWA, and SFPA. Her LiveJournal is Yaddith Times.
Current Issue
16 Sep 2024

A whale soars over Brooklyn. Clouds spread in streaks over the pale blue sky like cold butter. And the whale cleaves right through. Dar spots it from his perch on the rooftop, smoking a contraband cigarette. At first, it looks like the whale is just playing. Bobbing in and out of the clouds the way calves do during their migratory season. But the whale is too large to be a calf; it casts a shadow over the entire block as it glides directly overhead.
there’s a word—but it’s gone, stolen, seized in the raid; the others have it now
rain / tinged with lavender, mild scent / of rot and freshness.
Wednesday: The Imposition of Unnecessary Obstacles by Malka Older 
Friday: Shadows Rising by Rohan Monterio 
Issue 9 Sep 2024
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