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| Issue 31: | Jan. 2026 |
| Poem: | 95 words |
| Footnotes: | 213 words |
Say the past is a muddy river, say the future is a belated alphabet with which you and I might spell different things. I wanted to be smuggled, to ride past all the alarms. All night you held my alibis so softly, like taboos already broken, I forget the difference between seduction and arson. I am a girl with incendiary vices, so hungry I gnaw at light. It tunnels from the shadows, an exhausting hope. Insanity is not that we see people who aren’t there, it’s that we ignore the ones who are.
*This poem is a cento, with credited lines below listed in order of their appearance above. Links were retrieved on 16 December 2025:
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