heat death: a poem by Jennifer Mace
In the last poll, paid subscribers voted for a poem! Here's one from the excellent Jennifer Mace.
In the last poll, paid subscribers voted for a poem! Here's one from the excellent Jennifer Mace. This post was for paid subscribers only until the 7th of March, 2022, at which point it became free to the public.
As of September 15, 2022, you can also listen to Jennifer Mace narrate this poem as part of a podcast episode!
Listen to "Wheat Fields on Fire by Lesia Korol and What It Takes to Stay Wild by Die Booth" on Spreaker.
heat death
by Jennifer Mace
there are times
when the night unfurls within you
like an ocean, a road
made of silver and moon,
and stars pierce your skin
just like rainfall, uprooting your body
from the earth,
and the sounds of the city
empty out the space where you keep your dreams
until, hollow, you turn your face westward, and say,
'i am older than iron,' say,
'the sun is dying,' say,
'we are all
made of the gaps
between things, and
i think that mine
grow hungry.'
shh, love, hush;
you will dream again soon,
and your skin will settle
around the constellations of your bones,
and all the humming galaxies
will tumble down to sleep
until your skull has formed a cradle
of their fears.
____________
Jennifer Mace is a queer Brit who roams the Pacific Northwest in search of tea and interesting plant life. A three-time Hugo-finalist podcaster for her work with Be The Serpent, she writes about strange magic and the cracks that form in society. Her short fiction may be found in Baffling and her anthology Silk & Steel: A Queer Speculative Adventure Anthology, while her poetry has appeared in venues such as Uncanny Magazine and Reckoning. Find her online at www.englishmace.com.
