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  • Writer's pictureCurtis Ackie


we do not imagine hell

its bitter sickle cuts

at the throats of our wrists

at the torn shawl wings

unable to uncoil cloths

of treacherous wound fury

it is there in the corners

curdling in the nooks

consuming the dead

exchanging blood

in the innermost rooms of movement

spitting back in the black light

two faces like our mother

cackling in our circles

until the sea turns

tide tugging hair roots

threatening to cleave

our broken hems behind

© Curtis Ackie 2023

Sophy Hollington, The Moon from Autonomic Tarot (2023)


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