October 7, 2020
Gills desiccating, you glide through his house,
hair towel dried, Oxford shirt, slouched, secured
with belt made oversized dress — yours doused
in his tank, under duress. Damp, demure
while you saunter down bifurcated stairs,
some guests the servants were unaware, out
his front door then driveway, street. Unprepared —
Saunter through snapdragons, the cobblestone path
inside his house, into a bath prepared
with Dead Sea salts by a sociopath—
Continue reading “Womannotated – Dead Sea”
He recognizes painted eyes like green
irises mythologized over a decade and
a half ago — the speckled girl, sixteen,
he used to know — acquainted, where you stand
in her place, in your hand replica, bisque,
familiar face, unblemished cheeks, unbloomed
by his demonic lips. Lunar eclipse Continue reading “Womannotated – An Ancestral Love of Boyish Bees (Flutter: Southern Gothic Fever Dream)”
When I was nine, I dreamed of going to Mars. I dreamed of being swept away to fantastical lands. I dreamed of joining David at Groosham Grange, and travelling with Sarah in her quest to the Goblin City. I’m still a dreamer, but I no longer dream of escape. The ordinary and the fantastical inhabit the same world. There are ghosts, vampires, goblins, cyborgs, and aliens round every corner, lurking down every close. There are mermaids and krakens in the ocean, dragons in the sky. Continue reading “Dreaming St. Conan’s Kirk by Ever Dundas”
BURNING HOUSE PRESS 