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this world is not kind to anybody

least of all witchgirls

mouths like hard candy spitting

the split-tongued language of beasts

hair in elfknots, a scrawl of hands weaving

witchtricks, leaving sigils in lipstick on

the bathroom mirrors.

do you want to hear a story?

once upon a time there was a girl

named for a flower the color of halloween

if she kissed you and her tongue touched yours

you’d speak only truths for six hours afterwards

as the words left your lips they would turn into diamonds

or toads, depending on your nature. well

you can imagine how that went down

they ran her out of town, hunted her with

baying brindled hounds, spotlights, a cast net blessed

by saint benedict.

she ran away into the forest

climbed a tree and stayed until she

was hard white bones shot with pitchblende

jangling windblown and noctilucent

and owls made nests in her hair; their eggs

hatched out little plastic animals, golden snakes,

tarot cards, doll parts, sick mixtapes,

a swarm of honeybees that all had her face

plush bodies humming sister midnight

as they picked apart the shells.

the bees built a home in her ribcage

strung their frosted hex-cells starwise

from scapulae to sternum

a droning droneless tessellation

of parthenogenetic worker-queens

tripping ultraviolet sugarhighs

and when they gathered pollen

they carried it in tiny girl fists

back to her dripping hiveheart, that

waxwork thumping bass beats

sweeter than a gingerbread house.

 

do you want to know a secret?

if you stand under that tree with

your mouth open and catch a drop

of honey on your tongue, that night

you will dream your true love’s face.

the room will smell like cigarettes

and pine needles when you wake

and when you lick your lips, they will

taste like cherry candy. just remember:

you can only ever do this thing once—

that's how it works—just one time

and never again

because

 

if you taste that honey twice

it will kill you.

 

 



Amanda married Science for the money but maintains a passionate affair with the Arts. She lives in rural Appalachia with a thousand cats and the devastating consequences of her actions.
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.
Friday: The Chosen and the Beautiful by Nghi Vo 
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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