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๐—ง๐—ฟ๐—ฎ๐—ป๐˜€๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ฏ๐—ถ๐˜๐—ฎ๐—น ๐—”๐˜‚๐—ฏ๐—ฎ๐—ฑ๐—ฒ

๐˜ฃ๐˜บ ๐˜‘๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฆ ๐˜ˆ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ๐˜บ๐˜ฏ ๐˜‘๐˜ฐ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฏ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ



In a clawfoot tub teeming

with silverfish

I float serene then submerge

beneath its shimmery,

metallic waters.


Unscented candles leap & dance

to the steady drip of a Victorian faucet

widening the blood-brown stain

at the bottom of a cracked, clamshell sink.


A Pied Piper of creep and dank,

the plunk and plink of every drop

soothes the bristletail gathered here,

seekers that they are

for humid conditions, a moist abode.


Their sleek envelopment cocoons me,

calms my reedy fins, my textured layers,

the throbbing eyeball-ache

of every enlarged appendage.


Pavarotti soars on my Pandora box,

Pachelbelโ€™s Canon, a boon

to my fractured psyche.

Medicinal marijuana nearly crosses

the line that separates

the decadent and the existential.


My mind expands beyond the breach.


I feel the squish and wriggle

between every webbed toe,

every oven-warm orifice,

my dawn serenade to M.A.N.,

my nod to its perseverance,

to its streamlined grace.


I yield to the husk and emerge transformed.





Julie Allyn Johnson, a sawyer's daughter from the American Midwest, prefers black licorice over red, cigarette-size Tootsie Rolls, and Hot Tamalesโ€”practically the perfect candy. Her current obsession is tackling the rough and tumble sport of quilting and the accumulation of fabric. A Pushcart Prize nominee, Julieโ€™s poetry can be found in various journals including Star*Line, The Briar Cliff Review, Phantom Kangaroo, Haven Speculative, Anti-Heroin Chic, Coffin Bell, Typishly, and Chestnut Review.

Speculative fiction & POETRY ZINE
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