Photo by Mike Von on Unsplash



poem: The Hunt


we flicker from pixel to pixel

the dream of this inverted world

our bodies dissolved into digits


the horizon flattens and winks out

into an oblate blank plane, stretched

thin between plates of strange glass 

we are reborn with ease here

free to reconstruct, to glut ourselves

 on electric subjectives 

our bodies grow sallow and wan

in the cold glow of our displays

while our minds range, electric hounds


set loose upon the world

ravening for the taste of prey




poem: Abolitionspeak


What language does to unlearn us

unruly ones, who sang of impossible

beauty, a land of no imprisonment:


burns to a flame-razed field. Amnesia

is a kind of fire, one that leaves 

ash on tongues uncoupled from amnesty.


Language wants to abandon its worlds

of commitments, watch them ignite

from a darkened row of cushions.


Visions made fallow by slash-and-burn

creep tendrils through the field,

green, unlanguaged beneath black soil.


We are here, uncontained. Escapist

fantasies cannot touch us, untrusting

as we are, made feral by betrayal.


We are the dark turbulent earth. We

are impossible whispers of the aglossic.




Michaela Mayer is a 24-year-old writer from Alexandria, Virginia. Among her poetry idols are Gerard Manley-Hopkins, Mark Strand, Fatimah Asghar, and Sylvia Plath. She has been previously published in Winged Nation and has an upcoming poem in Mineral Lit Mag.