Some saw a raven with ruptured feathers.
Some smelled the homeless millions pressed
inside a drop of blood. Some felt dark planets
tilting. One planet, covered in octopus,
its arms entwined with acid from a toxic lockbox.
Another with the ghosts of dead tree frogs dancing
on shagbark. Some heard the dreams of the unborn
clinking cracked glasses. Some wept, clawing
the horizon. No Vacancy signs were visible
only in ice. Some thought they heard a saw blade
snap, but others insisted it was only a man
strangling on solar wind. Some swore they could
hear him rasp, throat choked on buckshot,
chanting a cantus firmus of forget-me nots.


Image: “The Raven” by Bill Strain, licensed under CC 2.0.

Wendy Drexler
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