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.
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