Worlds of Possiblity — Poetry

Edited by JULIA RIOS

“Story Sits in Places” copyright 2025 by Marie Brennan

“Draco Urbis” copyright 2024 by Marie Brennan

“Courier / The One Who Rides the Heavenly Chariot” copyright 2024 by Bogi Takács

“A Chat with Grandma” copyright 2023 by Mari Ness

“Lady” copyright 2024 by Jean Goulbourne

“Night Dance” copyright 2025 by Zaynab Ilyasu Bobi

“If Solar Sails Carried Creature Comforts” copyright 2025 by Angela Acosta

“Junkyard Spaceship” copyright 2024 by Beth Cato

“Jocelyn Bell and the L.G.M.” copyright 2023 by Lorraine Schein

“High School Graduation, June 2099” copyright 2025 by Angela Liu

“A Wall of Keyholes” copyright 2024 by Angela Liu

“Naija 3000: A Galactic Hustle” copyright 2025 by Solape Adetutu Adeyemi

“One Day, Gravity Stopped” copyright 2023 by Noah Berlatsky

“Floating Hedgehog” and “A Party with Cake” illustrations copyright 2023 by Anna Kolischyk

“The Library as a Very Good Dog” copyright 2023 by C. S. E. Cooney

“Familiar” copyright 2023 by Dawn Vogel

“Familiar Illustration” copyright 2023 by Julia Kim

“Princess and Crows” copyright 2025 by Mari Ness

“I Pupated by Accident on a Cold Night” copyright 2025 by Tehnuka

“A Rahokan’s Gem” copyright 2024 by Ian Li

“Fabric Hoard” copyright 2024 by Priya Sridhar

“When the Clubs Close” copyright 2025 by Jeff Reynolds

“A Good Soul, Really, When You Know Them” copyright 2023 by Elizabeth R. McClellan

“You Are a Monster” copyright 2024 by Beth Cato

“Monster” illustration copyright 2024 by Miyusa Ashibara

“Binary / Bloom” copyright 2024 by Margaret E. Winikates

“To Undertake a Quest” Copyright 2025 by Mary Soon Lee

“Dragon Bed and Breakfast” copyright 2025 by Allison Burris

“Journey of a Dandelion Seedling” copyright 2024 by E. S. Hovgaard / Indigo Rue

“The Nectar of the Gods” copyright 2025 by J. D. Harlock

“Sweet Child” copyright 2023 by Ayida Shonibar

“Defiance by Cake” copyright 2024 by Beth Cato

“Just a Girl and Her Stuffed Animals” copyright 2023 by Beth Cato

“Doll and Elephant Tea” illustrations copyright 2023 by Miyusa Ashibara

“Charming” copyright 2024 by Cislyn Smith

“Reliable Girls” copyright 2025 by Sara Cleto and Brittany Warman

“In Winter, a Wedding” copyright 2024 by Sara Norja

“Winter Wedding” illustration copyright 2024 by Eliseeva Elizaveta

“After” text and illustration copyright 2025 by Jenna Hanchey

“In Case of Emergency” copyright 2023 by Alethea Kontis

“Tithe” copyright 2023 by Héctor González

“Cycle of Life” copyright 2024 by Manny Cartagena

“Gospel for the Old” copyright 2024 by Hope Joseph

“I Choose” copyright 2024 by Hope Joseph

“After Loss” copyright 2023 by Jonathan Chibuike Ukah

“All the Lights We Cannot See” copyright 2025 by Jonathan Chibuike Ukah

“A Slice of Cake” copyright 2024 by Jonathan Chibuike Ukah

“Cake” illustration copyright 2024 by Miyusa Ashibara

“I’ll Be Your Balloon” copyright 2025 by Alina Sidorova

E-book ISBN: 978-1-961778-05-4

Hardback ISBN: 978-1-961778-06-1

Cover art copyright 2025 by Grace Chadwick

Cover and interior design by Julia Rios

All rights reserved. No part of this volume may be reproduced without permission from the publisher.

For more information about Worlds of Possibility, visit https://www.juliarios.com/worlds-of-possibility/

Contents

A Note from the Editor

Landscapes / Starscapes

Story Sits in Places

Marie Brennan

Draco Urbis

Marie Brennan

Courier / The One Who Rides the Heavenly Chariot

Bogi Takács

A Chat with Grandma

Mari Ness

Lady

Jean Goulbourne

Night Dance

Zaynab Ilyasu Bobi

If Solar Sails Carried Creature Comforts

Angela Acosta

Junkyard Spaceship

Beth Cato

Jocelyn Bell and the L.G.M.

Lorraine Schein

High School Graduation, June 2099

Angela Liu

A Wall of Keyholes

Angela Liu

Naija 3000: A Galactic Hustle

Solape Adetutu Adeyemi

Creatures

One Day, Gravity Stopped

Noah Berlatsky

The Library as a Very Good Dog

C. S. E. Cooney

Familiar

Dawn Vogel

Princess and Crows

Mari Ness

I Pupated by Accident on a Cold Night

Tehnuka

A Rahokan’s Gem

Ian Li

Fabric Hoard

Priya Sridhar

When the Clubs Close

Jeff Reynolds

A Good Soul, Really, When You Know Them

Elizabeth R. McClellan

You Are a Monster

Beth Cato

Binary / Bloom

Margaret E. Winikates

Wonder

To Undertake a Quest

Mary Soon Lee

Dragon Bed and Breakfast

Allison Burris

Journey of a Dandelion Seedling

Indigo Rue

The Nectar of the Gods

J. D. Harlock

Sweet Child

Ayida Shonibar

Defiance by Cake

Beth Cato

Just a Girl and Her Stuffed Animals

Beth Cato

Charming

Cislyn Smith

Reliable Girls

Sara Cleto and Brittany Warman

In Winter, a Wedding

Sara Norja

Resilience / Empowerment

After

Jenna Hanchey

In Case of Emergency

Alethea Kontis

Tithe

Héctor González

Cycle of Life

Manny Cartagena

Gospel for the Old

Hope Joseph

I Choose

Hope Joseph

After Loss

Jonathan Chibuike Ukah

All the Lights We Cannot See

Jonathan Chibuike Ukah

A Slice of Cake

Jonathan Chibuike Ukah

I’ll Be Your Balloon

Alina Sidorova

Content Notes

About the Contributors

A Note from the Editor

Worlds of Possibility has always been excited about speculative poetry. Because I let two full years pass before making the next anthology, I realized we have enough wondrous poems to fill their own volume, and I wanted to pull them all out and celebrate them together. I’ve also included illustrations for some of them. Where art has been commissioned specifically for Worlds of Possibility, the initial image in any given piece is credited, and you can see more about each of the artists in the “About the Contributors” section. If you see images that have no credit, it is because they are designed by me using stock art. To the best of my knowledge, I do not use AI ever.

This year, 2025, there is a special award for poetry in the Hugo Awards ceremony, and I think that’s really cool! I can’t attend Worldcon myself this year, but I wanted to mark the occasion by offering this anthology of all the Worlds of Possibility poems collected since August of 2023 to everyone at the same time that Worldcon is happening. Three of the poets featured in this anthology — Marie Brennan, Angela Liu, and Mari Ness — are Hugo finalists for the poetry category this year! Congratulations to all of them, and to everyone reading, I hope you enjoy seeing more of their work!

These poems represent many authors, styles, and subjects. Sometimes they take on difficult things like grief, but all of them also contain some element of hope, happiness, resilience, or comfort. To reflect the abundance of styles and subjects in this volume, I commissioned custom cover art by Grace Chadwick, who makes beautiful and comforting art as well as art that explores difficult things. In this case, she has given us an elven space lady, cupping a group of planets against a starry purple sky. She is inviting you to go from earth to space to fairyland and beyond in these poems!

All Best,

Julia Rios

Landscapes / Starscapes

Story Sits in Places

MARIE BRENNAN

7 lines, first published June 2025

A giant bound in stone, that distant peak;

an ever-sleeping woman curves these hills;

the tears of parted lovers feed this creek.

From every place remembered history spills,

a landscape of our heroes, griefs, and kills.

When we set out across these weathered stones,

we walk atop our ancient forebears’ bones.

Draco Urbis

MARIE BRENNAN

10 lines, first published June 2024

Gleaming

with late-day light

layered scales of windshields

along the looping highway coils

awake:

dragons

with bones of steel and concrete flesh

rousing from urban lairs

take to the skies

and roar

Courier / The One Who Rides the Heavenly Chariot

BOGI TAKÁCS

29 lines, first published October 2024

from Jobs for Magical People (That Do Not Involve the Military)

Walk so fast you could walk away from anything, everything; then stay.

Stay within yourself, within the movement, the motion

that links you to the earth, the earth to the sky, the sky to

the heavens above. G-d doesn’t forget

and all lands keep count.

Carry the message of a crushed world within

each footstep in the snow, in the sand, each handhold

as you whirl up a spiral staircase, soaring

with the implausibility of a walk

that connects A to C while skipping B,

that doesn’t line up with the laws of physics,

the horse-drawn carriage becoming

the heavenly chariot becoming

you plodding through streets

laden soft with mud.

They’ve managed to weaponize

information itself;

but not the old bearded saint

telling his carriage-driver

to head deeper into

the old-growth forest,

nor the secret

hid in the back of the garden,

beyond the tiles shimmering

in the noonday sun

(do not say water, water),

the entering in peace

and the exiting in peace

— no, never that.

* * *

A Note About This Poem:

Bogi started working on this series in response to the Israeli military invasion of Gaza. E would like to ask you to consider how authoritarian power manifests the world over (including in the stories we tell), then do something to counteract it.

A Chat with Grandma

MARI NESS

29 lines, first published August 2023

When I was your age,

we knew it would take

years to travel

between the stars.

And we LIKED it.

We made plans

for the darkness:

we would learn

languages, science

how to dance.

We would

sing

surrounded by

the distant stars –

We wanted

that journey.

We begged

for those years.

And now –

Grandma. I love –

You kids

don't know

how lucky

you are.

– your stories. I do.

But right now

I need

to go dance

with a star.

Lady

JEAN GOULBOURNE

18 lines, first published August 2024

Dawn sips the night dew

Holding it in a long stemmed glass

Turning it between ringed fingers

Delicately

Dawn is a taking lady

She sits on a love seat and taps the rim

Of her feet encased In glass slippers

Tap tap

Tap tap bringing in the light

Then she must rest in the cool bower

Under the roses

During the sun climb

she will wait out her thirst

Till the night dew drips

And she must sip every drop

From the long stemmed glass

Held between jeweled fingers

Which are secret stars

Night Dance

ZAYNAB ILYASU BOBI

18 lines, first published April 2025

For a long time, the night hasn't drowned

in me

like it did yesterday. Can you imagine

the moon crying inside you? I can,

on rainy

days. The truth is, darkness dissolves light

to hide its face. There is nothing science

about it.

If there is another truth, call it kawaici.

For now, leave shamelessness to loneliness

& grief.

You see, the word reach is exaggerated.

I reached for calmness in the cloud but met

with a storm.

Who takes a raven to a dove party?

Before the night comes, I want to be

devoured

by the sun to feel the glow but not the burn.

If Solar Sails Carried Creature Comforts

ANGELA ACOSTA

20 lines, first published June 2025

Why do the queer kids never go back

to the star systems and crèches that raised them?

Why do they instead slide along the backs of solar sails

like youths lounging seaside in the generous sun?

If solar sails carried creature comforts,

I’d take a picnic basket of provisions,

with warm baked goods spread out

in a weightless lunch for two.

We’d watch nova explosions with binoculars,

set up hammocks and name uncharted constellations,

practice words in languages we’d only

ever cried in before.

If solar sails, so vast as to cross whole galaxies,

could help us chart out new lands,

I’d take books, pottery, and blankets

to make a home on wavelike currents of photons.

If we can only travel across star systems,

never decelerating to taste moon and station life,

then let me greet the endless light-years,

and tell stories of how we became our authentic selves.

Junkyard Spaceship

BETH CATO

12 lines, first published August 2024

building a junkyard spaceship

means

using what you got

sometimes that means you make-do

with a captain's seat that's a bit big

or a bent-up nose cone you got to hammer

for weeks to get the angles right

but it also means, at times,

things work out just fine

meaning there's a cockpit nook

the perfect size

for a cat

Jocelyn Bell and the L.G.M.

LORRAINE SCHEIN

13 lines, first published August 2023

Astrophysics student Jocelyn Bell,

analyzing the chart of a radio telescope

noticed the recurring marks on its printout.

Not knowing what they meant, she and her advisor

joked they must be signals from an alien planet

and so dubbed them Little Green Men or L.G.M.

Now we know that she had discovered pulsars,

short for pulsating neutron stars.

But what if pulsars really are sending signals from the L.G.M.?

A persistent beacon emitted from an interstellar lighthouse,

radiating through the vast space-time sea

warning of dangerous shoals of nameless stars

to help us safely steer our ships to where they are?

Editor’s note: Jocelyn Bell Burnell was left out of the 1974 Nobel Prize because she was a grad student at the time she made her discovery. If you would like to learn more about her experience in her own words, please check out this speech she made in 1977: http://www.bigear.org/vol1no1/burnell.htm

High School Graduation, June 2099

ANGELA LIU

26 lines, first published June 2025

I miss the notes you folded

into my locker, your face

and mine in the same changing room mirror

I don’t miss the gym shorts, the zero gravity,

but I miss those narrow legs

bird-like, longing for solid ground,

the first kiss in the hall between classes,

we rode a sky limo through Times Square in satin dresses,

drunk on lights

all three thousand channels of the galaxy

projected across a valley of glass

our kingdom sprawled across a peaty backseat

we were foolish enough

to think we would never get old,

never need anything more.

Sometimes I imagine myself with new legs

knee-deep in an Enceladusan snowfall

your bare hand still

a burning star between my ribs

I remember that time

in a parking lot when you asked me

if the moon ever misses the earth

and I thought I would fall apart if I left you.

We kept the prom corsages with old movie stubs

and never wondered why

we clip dying flowers to our bodies when we dance

We scribbled our names into yearbook after yearbook,

wishing each other good luck and happy times ahead

still feeling like strangers.

You left the last week of August

during a summer snowfall

dragging that hard yellow suitcase to the launch base

in those same gym shorts, my name

folded into those lips

I never told you

that was the closest I ever came

to feeling like a mirror,

just me

and the infinite possibility of you.

A Wall of Keyholes

ANGELA LIU

26 lines, first published February 2024

Take your pick

Each door opens to a town

where you and I play heroes

soar across frozen landscapes, trawl the sky

for lost cities, wipe the tears of imaginary children

then sleep in the grassy fields outside the old church

on your jacket, moonlit

and entangled.

Do you remember your favorite?

Where we battle the golems,

sever the hearts of ancient dragons

toss their claws to faceless kings, and in the morning

float across a clear pink ocean, the sky

a wash of fractals and white birds

and the briny smell of fish

the size of airplanes

Even when you’re gone

I’m not sad

There’s still one key

in your old jacket,

the one you used to drape over me on cold winter nights

that I still wear like your arms

telling me I’ll be okay

you left it in there

a piece of yourself

so we’d always have a place to go back.

Naija 3000: A Galactic Hustle

SOLAPE ADETUTU ADEYEMI

20 lines, first published February 2025

In the year three thousand, a sight to behold,

Lagos is floating, its streets paved with gold.

Danfo shuttles now hover in space,

Conductors still shouting, "O wa o! Make space!"

The Third Mainland Bridge, now a sky-high track,

Zooming through wormholes — no potholes, no cracks.

Yet, in the markets, some things stay the same,

"Madam, buy data! This one no dey shame!"

Oil rigs now drilling through planets afar,

Our senators still balling in five-star bazaars.

PHCN evolved but remains a surprise—

"Light don go!" echoes through Naija skies.

Jollof pots cooking with fiery delight,

Still arguing with Ghana’s — though ours wins the fight.

AI prophets predicting the rain,

While okadas weave through the Milky Way lanes.

And deep in Ondo, with stories unsaid

A masquerade whispers of wisdom old.

For through all the tech and celestial might,

Naija still shines with scrumptious delight.

Creatures

One Day, Gravity Stopped

NOAH BERLATSKY

27 lines, first published August 2023

One day, gravity stopped.

The hedgehogs were very confused.

To start with, they all began to float.

Hedgehogs are not used to floating.

Many of them curled into balls, but that did not help much.

Other things floated too. For example, underwear.

Also rocks, candy wrappers, omelets, and beetles.

When Aunt Esmerelda floated past she said, “There’s a lot of junk up here floating around!”

And she was right.

Art by Anna Kolischyk

Some of the hedgehogs tied themselves to trees.

Then they drifted up like hedgehog balloons.

This was undignified.

But at least they knew where they were when they woke up in the morning.

Another problem was water.

Without gravity, the water in the pond rolled into balls and drifted into the air.

This made it hard to drink, even without having to dodge the floating fish.

Also, without gravity, all the air in the world went off into space.

It is hard to breathe without air.

Luckily, the hedgehogs had special helmets, so they were all right for a while.

They lent some helmets to the birds too, if the birds asked politely.

At night, the hedgehogs watched the moon getting further and further away.

Without gravity, it had gotten cranky and decided to set off on its own.

Then gravity came back. The hedgehogs were very confused.

Many of them fell down.

That hurt.

But overall they were happy to have gravity back again.

So they had a party with cake!

The Library as a Very Good Dog

C. S. E. COONEY

61 lines, first published as a Kickstarter bonus reward, July 2023

the library wriggles like a just-weaned puppy.

it’s always like this in the beginning —

that ludic, urgent, fresh-from-the-basket feeling:

come-at-the-morning, get-up-and-go-forth!

excelsior!

wrigglesome, yipsome, yummy, and yes-and:

the library sticks out its curious nose, and knows

that the world is adorable and explorable and fragrance-full—

— and knowing,

leaps!

[the library never was a puppy,

but is acquainted with all the particulars of

section 636.7: classification, animal husbandry —

pure canine facts, ma’am, but the library understands

so much more than this.

its world literature case is mountainous,

its stacks fountainous, all robust and orotund —

so much lavished here, of poetry and dogs,

that the library is assured

of its similes.]

from out of its basket basking,

it leaps — our library —

massive and ecstatic,

secure in the elastic fabric of space-time

(the bouncy blanket of its kitchen-corner existence),

what’s more, confident of being caught

by rhapsodic arms, of being held close

by those who will love it most.

morning glow, day dawns:

a wasteland of hardpan and asphalt.

chainlink horizon, dumpster dump yard,

abandoned gas station, defunct laundromat,

weeds in all the cracks.

A place of lack.

day dawns, sun-sprung,

and the library sprouts like a succulent,

wanting no more than wishfulness

to flower, full-formed

into a consummate urban branch.

it settles: brick, mortar, roof, windows,

door open.

the library doesn’t have to wait long.

the smell of yellowed pages like an old, beloved song

lures the margins inward.

the first to arrive, always first to arrive

is the librarian, parched

from long years of library-less dearth.

once, they were a teacher, a tattoo-artist, a poet, a priest

once and until now, waiting, with the eagerness

of the bereaved.

the second to arrive — just behind —

a child,

bright and dark as a seed.

wide-eyed, bird-like

and in that instant, in love.

a beast of instinct, drawn by need.

the library barks

with the sharpness of bliss.

wags its tail, rapturous —

panting, panting

for its people to come home.

Familiar

DAWN VOGEL

20 lines, first published as a Kickstarter bonus reward, July 2023

The cat thinks his human is a witch,

and he's her familiar,

even though she doesn't think he knows

what either of those words mean.

But witches make magic,

and she can open cans of food,

and make things appear

with her little black wand.

And he's certainly familiar

with how she speaks

when she's happy, sad, and angry

(and when she calls him Trouble, it's all three).

And he knows how to help her

when her moods are low

with a cute meow

and deigning to be petted.

Art by Julia Kim

But the best spell she has

is the one where she sits,

and he climbs on her lap

and dreams the sweetest things.

Princess and Crows

MARI NESS

26 lines, first published June 2025

Oh, it wasn't deliberate. Never that. She just

needed a friend. Rather hard, in that high tower

with the guards below, with silent servants

avoiding her eyes after that long ascent. She

understood, of course: they were tired. And

a crow waited at the window, watching

the grounds below. Easy enough

to slip a morsel or two of the cold remains

of the food that lingered on the trays,

to that narrow opening of stone. Easy enough

to extend a finger, to let the crow

peck at the jewel shining from

the golden ring. Easy enough

to feed a second, and then a third,

to stroke their heads as they ripped through

the fast-cooling meat. To teach them

a word or two. To sometimes join them

in roughened song. It wasn't deliberate.

Never that. But she laughed as they seized the ropes

she held so tightly in both hands, roughened

by so many twisted threads, laughed

as the murder rose in steady beats,

pulling her from that high tower, laughed

as she flew away, carried by those murderous wings,

scattering crumbs for the other chattering birds

who waited, wings outstretched, below.

I Pupated by Accident on a Cold Night

TEHNUKA

26 lines, first published April 2025

I pupated by accident: on this cold night, my duvet thin,

I extruded a nice blanket to wrap myself cosily in.

On this cold night, my duvet thin, I simply wanted something warm

to wrap myself cosily in. I never wondered what might form;

I simply wanted something warm. Since sleep was my priority

I never wondered what might form — and curled up tight, I couldn’t see…

Since sleep was my priority, my backbone began to crackle

and curled up tight, I didn’t see ‘til my bed started to rattle.

My backbone began to crackle through a blanket I’d extruded

‘til my bed started to rattle — I awoke, alarmed, and brooded.

Through a blanket I’d extruded, long limbs emerged, and then they flapped!

I awoke, alarmed, and brooded. How can it be possible? That

long limbs emerged, and then they flapped? It’s a dream, and I’m stuck quite bad.

How can it be possible that new appendages could just … add?

It’s a dream, and I’m stuck quite bad to think, in space that was empty,

new appendages could just add! Extruding blankets was plenty.

To think! In space that was empty — in my ordinary backbone—

extruding blankets was plenty — but something stranger yet has grown!

In my ordinary backbone, I feel the hinge of wings, strong, soft,

but something stranger yet has grown — what started as a thick wet cough.

I feel the hinge of wings, strong, soft, though the sky’s no warmer up higher.

What started as a thick wet cough? I could warm myself up with fire.

Though the sky’s no warmer up higher, this night became a blessing when

I could warm myself up with fire, and evolved to cosy dragon.

This night became a blessing when I extruded a nice blanket—

and evolved to cosy dragon, though I pupated by accident.

A Rahokan’s Gem

IAN LI

16 lines, first published June 2024

A Rahokan dragon sails through sapphire skies,

gemstone clutched in his lustrous claws

like prongs enclosing a diamond solitaire,

its gleam reflecting in his prismatic scales.

He twists and twirls, dancing mid-air

with gem held close, eyes glittering with delight,

wings ushering him homeward

on joyous airstreams.

His mate stirs, nacre-glossed wings

stretching, wrapping around their nest

where no gold or treasure is hoarded

except their love—

and now the gem,

trembling underneath their warm bellies,

where its pristine surface fractures,

and a tiny claw emerges.

Fabric Hoard

PRIYA SRIDHAR

81 lines, first published June 2024

If you see scorchmarks

Within the neatly organized cave,

Dotting the walls

Do not fear if they belonged to

Past adventurers and explorers.

The patterns were deliberately burned

To gleam under ceilings of

Peaceful, resting glowworms.

The dragon has no thumbs or gender,

But they make tea using a prehensile tail,

The pointy tip stirring,

Clockwise, clockwise,

Steeping the leaves by tipping the pot.

("They don't make this blend anymore," they tell you

While offering you a cup.

"The king annexed the country, and made them grow cotton instead;

I was lucky to save a few seeds and leaves.

My cousin grows them with fireflies!")

You sip with caution, worried

That dragons that don't use fire

Resort to poison.

Instead, you drink more,

Scalding water and all,

To let pleasant flavors

Spread over your tongue.

Of course, you are here for more

Than ancient histories and pleasant company

That could swallow you in one bite.

("The prince's betrothed has requested

A dress made of stars.

Do you have any miracles in your hoard?")

You have finely woven silk,

A brocade that will shine under the glowworms,

A perfect bargain in lieu of damask.

The dragon scratches their head

Twisting its front leg to

Move past the wings.

("Dragons have no miracles.

We only collect.")

You sit in silence, sipping away.

If this tea were poison,

Your king would not blame you

Should the dragon return your body

With many apologies and warnings

To not bother them again.

("She doesn't want to marry the king,"

the dragon tells you.)

("I know that," you reply. "But

I have a quest. And royals have duties.")

The dragon considers your brocade,

Sparkling from every angle.

("May I"?)

Then they lumber to their feet,

Careful not to spill tea.

At a distant part of the cave,

Dustier, and more cluttered

With stray threads.

The brocade hangs from a blade

Rusty with blood,

Lodged into the walls.

When they breathe fire,

It's not towards you,

But swirling around your gift,

Dancing around the shine.

You want to scream

Against the smoke rising

From the woven silk.

Then it shines against the black,

And you understand.

("Tell her a tale.")

("I will.")

You paid nothing but your time

And a bolt of the finest brocade

The city's tailors could offer,

A dragon wove distant

Stars into a darkened night.

The king will believe.

("Come back again soon.")

("I cannot promise.")

You hope the princess will

Also believe in dragons.

When the Clubs Close

JEFF REYNOLDS

21 lines, first published April 2025

Medusa and the sirens sway

Past idling taxies to Bruno’s bodega,

Laughing, brushing white powder off little black dresses,

And queue on the sidewalk by the front door

Waiting for the early crew to unlock and fix them spicy churros

The monster boys lurch

Over to Rudy’s at Bleeker and Mulberry,

Downing cigarettes and Mountain Dew and meatloaf specials

And talking about their favorite punk bands,

Henry Rollins and the Nihilists and Failure to Launch

The vampires in satin cloaks

Sit on red cushioned chairs in Delmonico’s,

Drinking expensive port from glasses made of Venetian crystal

As show boys and girls drape over them

To reveal the smooth and delicate flesh of their necks

And when dawn pinks the sky

To paint the brownstones east of the Bowery,

The werewolves howl one last time, shivering glass towers.

And slip into Hank’s diner

For black cups of Guatemalan coffee

And the lumberjack breakfast

A Good Soul, Really, When You Know Them

ELIZABETH R. MCCLELLAN

15 lines, first published October 2023

for Enoch Duncan (OddOblivion)

People ask them "why the long face?"

It's frankly rude. They stretched up,

a wood-knot coming to life,

erupted into a beastie with delicate, useless

fingers, mouth like a sinkhole, neonate

milky horrible elephant eyes that see

too much. I welcomed them here, to home,

don't tease them for things they can't help.

They eat my nightmares like a spider trio

divvying up the fly population. Bad dreams

sometimes come alive. That doesn't make

them bad housemates; they guard while you keep

solid boundaries, social graces, tolerance

for the sweetheart dream-eater in the bedroom

corner, the high overhang. Unnature's pest control.

You Are a Monster

BETH CATO

35 lines, first published August 2024

when the other little children were

wishing to be firefighters and teachers

when they grew up

you wanted to be a monster

when your teacher said "no

becoming a monster

is a terrible career goal for a child

as kind as you"

you were more determined to

make it happen

you remained as nice as ever

as you excelled at academic work

through high school, college

when through sheer will, you grew

blue fur all over your body

two nubby gold horns framing

your forehead

your eyes wide, your lashes long

nothing about you

the slightest bit scary

Art by Miyusa Ashibara

you completed your doctorate

in social work, and now

you spend your days

helping children process the deeds

of the worst of monsters: humans

kids feel more at ease conversing with

someone like you

your fur soaks in their tears

and when every so often one says

they want to be a monster

when they grow up

you assure them they can be

most anything they want

but they should always

strive to be kind

Binary / Bloom

MARGARET E. WINIKATES

10 lines, first published December 2024

If robot: then rose

If learns: then grows

Fractals, petals, pathways, parts

Roots, routers, hadron hearts

If seed: then sow

If spark: then glow

Cyclamen, sunflower

Cybernetic, solar power

If dreaming: then thrive—

If loving: then alive.

Wonder

To Undertake a Quest

MARY SOON LEE

15 lines, first published April 2025

You do not have to be a warrior.

You do not have to be the hero.

You do not have to be strong.

You do not need a magic sword.

You do not need dwarven armor.

You do not need an amulet.

You do not have to be outcast.

You do not have to be desperate.

You do not have to be brave.

You do not need gold.

You do not need a horse.

You do not need a tent.

Of course, the above are helpful,

but not as helpful as friends

and comfortable walking boots.

Dragon Bed and Breakfast

ALLISON BURRIS

10 lines, first published April 2025

Fresh roasted sausages! Eggs to your liking!

(Unless you want poached. That is far too fiddly. Don’t ask again.)

Spacious, yet cozy cave accommodations

with glowworm lanterns, pegasus feather pillows (organic, first molt!)

speaking mirrors, mysterious unseen singers, marble baths filled with bubbles.

Some rooms haunted! Just ask.

Overnight guests eligible for discounts on the area’s fantastic attractions.

Tour an ancient horde! Join a hunt! Learn to joust! Weave enchanted flower crowns!

Do you have what it takes to shear a sheep in half with your teeth?

No? Well that’s okay, we also have scissors to collect wool and a petting zoo for the kids!

Journey of a Dandelion Seedling

INDIGO RUE

109 lines, first published as by E. S. Hovgaard, December 2024

The Nectar of the Gods

J. D. HARLOCK

28 lines, first published February 2025

Look to the East

and turn South. Witness

its rise — gently, above

the horizon. There, it shall

loom, hued

with gold, ushering in

the harvest of the beekeepers.

Neath its brilliance, suspend

in bags of cloth,

an abundance. Once their

sweetness is

drained, crush

the combs until

their essence

is extracted.

At that point,

draw water from

the spring. Boil it

in a bowl. Meld it

with the honey. Stir it

with the sacred rod. Flavour it

with pomegranate

and yarrow

and wait.

Then, upon our return,

in the banquet hall,

we shall partake in

the Nectar of the Gods

Sweet Child

AYIDA SHONIBAR

45 lines, first published December 2023

when something breaks

your heart and consumes you

with bitterness, you’ll find yourself

stumbling into my shop of sweet mishti

that was definitely not there

in the middle of your road

the day before

you’ll smell it first, lured

by the scent of rose, golap from

the soft pink shondesh, which

I’ll offer if you’ve received

disappointing news that you

need help to chew on before you

can stomach it, a swallow of

creamy sugar to coat the barbs, to

help it go down

and if the pain has already festered

into something more rotten, then

take a roshogolla, paneer like fresh

white clouds I gathered lovingly

in muslin and soaked in a syrup of spices

that will flood your mouth, heal the hurt

that turns your tongue sour when

you speak to your friends and

seasons your attitude with saltiness

in response to your family’s questions,

because your loneliness will

only sting worse

but if you’ve already fallen apart, then

let me fold you back together with

layers of flaky dough, tuck your

shattered pieces into the cushion of

milky filling at the centre, seal you up

using the same stick of clove

my grandmother repaired me with

after I thought she’d left me

behind, until she appeared in

a magical sweet shop

in the middle of my street on

the other side of the world to

give me your favourite, her lobongo

lotika, and a promise of affection

eternal, passed from her ancestors to

mine, and from me to

you, sweet child

Defiance by Cake

BETH CATO

65 lines, first published August 2024

some teenagers rebel by

partying and drinking,

me, I did what mama

always said not to do:

I walked up the knoll

where fairies were said

to lurk in wait of humans

to steal them away to fairyland

and not only did I go there

week after week

I carried up a hamper

to hold my own private picnic

my meals were lonely at first

not that I minded that much

the valley view was gorgeous

but in the third week

a strange man showed up

pale, willowy, with yellow eyes

like a cat

I invited him to partake

he did, reacting with surprise

to the tastiness of my meat pies

I took that as a high compliment

as I plotted larger-scale

and grander bakes

for my receptive audience

in the coming weeks, he returned

bringing along fae peers

they expressed surprise at my baking, too

to my relief, they made

no outward efforts to

lure me away

not until they offered me an opportunity

to bake for the fairy queen herself

an honor rarely granted to humans,

they said, as they dusted

biscuit crumbs from their vests and corsets

I politely declined, explaining

my goal was to be accepted as a contestant

on a major television baking show

and that everyone in my family was

on a diet or shunning gluten

so I'd had no one to experiment upon

and that I'd known from stories

that fairies were said to have

the best food across dimensions

I'd figured

if fairies enjoyed my bakes

well, I might have a chance to win

my new friends

were amused and supportive

they said they could lend magic

to my efforts

but I said no

I wanted to win by my own power

my own alchemy of sugar and spice

and on that note

would they be willing to try

a Sacher torte and opera cake

next Wednesday?

they said yes

Just a Girl and Her Stuffed Animals

BETH CATO

39 lines, first published October 2023

Art by Miyusa Ashibara

each night before she climbed

into her bed, the girl

kissed her stuffed animals

and wished them good-night

she trusted them to keep her safe

in the morning as soon as

her light was on, she checked on them

still in their guard positions

by the windows, and assessed injuries

some concerns were superficial, like

matted fur from some monster's slobber

while others had more serious wounds that

bled white cotton or bean filling

fortunately her grandma had already

taught her to sew and provided a kit

for moments just like this

if injuries were complex or numerous

sometimes she could only

provide her stuffed animals some

extra hugs and reward stickers

to help them endure the day

after school, as soon as possible

she finished patching up her army

and fortified them for nightfall

that often meant she had to find

the knife sharpener somewhere in

her big sister's room because

Magritte could never put things away

a few times a week the girl scrounged

for new projectiles, too

like pebbles or tacks or marbles

then if there was time, after homework

the girl would set up her tea set

she and her menagerie would enjoy a nice chat

about the school day and battle tactics

(which sometimes didn't seem so different)

while sipping the finest pretend Earl Grey

with fresh-baked vanilla bean scones

that always ended the day on a nice note

Charming

CISLYN SMITH

46 lines, first published April 2024

there was no curse, no spindle-pricked finger

no blood spilled for sleep and a wall of thorns

just my magic

and a deep yearning

to be left

alone

and yet

here you are

at the gates

sword in hand, working your way past the bone piles

are you like the others

allegedly here for love?

(love is rose petals on the wind

raindrops on the window

silence

space to be

me

and rest -

they did not come bearing those

gifts

and they found my lips poison

when they tried to steal kisses)

why come here

when I sent everyone else away

(nobody sleeps in the courtyards

gathering dust -

those are more lies to fertilize those foolish desires)

the entwined thorns

the moss crumbling walls

the magic

that I cannot wield without being called a witch

in the outside world

it all says to stay away

and yet

I hear your steps on the tower stairs now

steady

light

(I always was a restless sleeper)

and there you are, princess

sword at the ready

smiling

"Dream easy" you say, taking position

in the doorway

"I won't let them disturb your slumber again."

I think I might be smiling

as I slip deeper into dreams

Reliable Girls

SARA CLETO AND BRITTANY WARMAN

23 lines, first published June 2025

Listen, I can’t carry a tune,

But when we need money,

I sing a stupid cereal jingle,

Or the national anthem,

And a huge toad will plop out of

My sister’s laughing mouth as she

Chases diamonds across the linoleum.

We’ve named them all —

Fred, Araminta, Cleopatra, Hans.

Of course, once you name something

It’s your responsibility to care for it,

And whatever the tales may say, we’ve

Always been reliable girls.

We consulted with a local zoologist and

Built them an environment

With plenty of cool water and

Large insects, studded with diamonds

And toadstools.

After all, we have the means and,

Though the princes knock

Ceaselessly, though the fairies sigh,

The toads bring us both

Delight.

In Winter, a Wedding

SARA NORJA

293 lines, first published February 2024

1. The Magpies

Come, follow our chattering

feather-strewn way.

Snow lingers, winter’s fingers

are still clenched

around this land.

But stranger, never fear

winter’s cold – tonight

is a wedding-night.

* * *

2. The Stranger

The trees’ gentle filigree

of branches blossoms

against the crimson-as-anger

sunset sky

(crimson as my eyes

a year-and-a-day ago when

my truelove left me

and my memory stutters –)

The magpies lead me

to a farmhouse, abandoned,

dwarfed by the great stone

standing still before it.

I hesitate behind

the flurry of outlandish guests

warbling and whispering.

What wedding this?

A stranger congregation

of guests I’ve never seen:

sparrows and blackbirds

and owls beyond counting:

barn owls, little owls, owls with tufted ears,

tawny owls. And among the birds

fair-folk all a-shimmer

in their dizzying guises

of gossamer. Their ember eyes.

Whose wedding? Whose?

* * *

3. The Prince of Owls

Tonight the fearsome Lady

of Darkness shall claim me

for her own. How I long

for my truelove! but she

is forever lost, all memory

of me dimmed. My curse

obscures me. As tawny owl

I’m doomed to flutter

these winter lands.

Had I the power

I’d curse the Lady

for tricking me like she did,

but I have no magic

save that which binds me.

My hour of transformation

draws near, but before

I become a man (once a year

on the day of my cursing),

I’ll be married, forever locked

into this feathered form.

* * *

4. The Lady of Darkness

Truly, an owl

shall suit me well as husband.

A feathered addition

to my collection!

He’ll hunt for me,

claw my enemies’ eyes out.

Mine to keep. Soon. Soon.

* * *

5. The Oath-stone

His hands were on me, swearing fealty to his truelove, that day when the curse fell upon him with the rage of feathered things. Sundered from his family, from his truelove, from the world he’d known, he screamed as hands turned to wings, as feathers sprouted and javelined through his skin. Prince, the owls named him. Dead mice they gave him.

* * *

6. The Faerie Officiator

Up onto the oath-stone –

let the marriage-rites begin.

Here the bride, a cloud

of mist around her,

her eyes wolf-yellow.

Here the groom, still

as a tombstone effigy,

eyes round, feathers flat.

I clear my throats. Twin-voiced, I utter:

“We’ve gathered here

at the Oath-stone to witness

the joyful marriage-rites

of the Lady of Airless Climes,

she of many names (all of them dire),

and the Prince of Owls.

Before their hands are joined

in matrimony...”

art by Eliseeva Elizaveta

7. The Prince, Eyeing the Crowd

I avoid the Lady’s glance.

My bird-eyes are sharp

as a whetted spear, and there –

Among the crowd

of birds and fair-folk –

a human, puzzled.

My owl’s heart

flutters. It’s her.

Eleri. My truelove

here. How?

Magpies dance around her, wink at me.

But it’s too late. How could she

break a spell she cannot see?

* * *

8. Eleri, No Longer a Stranger

An owl and a fay-woman:

a strange marriage the magpies

called me to witness!

The owl’s staring at me

with those dark-pooled eyes

as if we were old friends.

As if a lock

placed deep inside me

were clacking open

turned by an unseen key

* * *

9. The Officiator, Interrupted

The words patter from my mouths

familiar, the marriage-spell

from Her kingdom beyond the veil.

“I shall bind you two

in a covenant

unbreakable. If any

in this congregation

give objection, speak now –”

I never expected it. No one

dares cross the Lady.

But a shout rings out

in the winter air,

brittle as first-frost –

* * *

10. Eleri, Understanding

“I object!”

The words ring out

before I’ve realised

they were mine.

But why

do I object?

The fair-folk stare, baleful,

the birds are restless.

I’m trembling, stomach clenching

but the unseen key

twists. Opens up a memory

that was wrested from me.

Yes. My truelove was cursed

into owlness. He can’t marry

this faerie queen,

not before I’ve heard

from his mouth

that he loves me no longer.

Heedless, heart-sore,

I run to the bridal pair

leaving a fluttering of feathers

and shuddering of cobwebs behind me.

The owl hoots, his eyes alien.

But I remember him.

“The prince of owls

is under enchantment

and cannot consent. Free him!”

* * *

11. The Lady of Rising Rage

What

does this human girl

think she’s doing?

I scream at the officiator

to continue her spell-words,

for I want this prince

to grace my halls.

The officiator shakes

her heads. “She objected.

Law must run its course

even in Faery.”

I care not for laws.

I am my own law.

I want this marriage

and no human wench

can stop me.

* * *

12. The Prince, Constrained by Feathers

She remembers.

She remembers, but even that

is not enough to break the curse.

* * *

13. Eleri, Breaking

Mad gleam in the Lady’s eyes,

her fingers spinning a spell.

I should fear her

but now that my heart’s door

has been wrenched open, now

that memories have drenched me

with their sunfire, I can’t

hold back.

The prince of owls

flutters to my outstretched arm.

“How do I break the spell?”

“To-whoo,” and grieving “to-whoo!”

If he knows, he cannot tell.

Desperate, for the Lady

has murderous magicks

up her gauzy sleeves,

I summon all my strength:

change. change. change.

He doesn’t change.

* * *

14. The Birds, an Army

The Lady of Darkness

is threatening our own,

our Prince of Owls.

We fly – to attack,

a beating of wings

and gnashing of beaks –

* * *

15. The Lady, Disgusted

Oh, sod it all.

I’ve had it with birds,

dirty stinking things

ripping my sleeves to shreds!

This marriage isn’t worth

such indignity.

Come, my people!

Let’s away to Faery

and calmer climes.

* * *

16. The Prince, Transforming

Then the pain screeches through me.

Wings become arms,

feathers fall away

as a cloak around me.

Beak becomes nose, and my eyes

turn over in the darkness. I can’t see.

“Eleri, come to me!

Were we married now

we could break the curse.”

* * *

17. The Oath-stone, Shuddering

An opening of the land: the fair-folk depart. On the heels of their leaving it comes, the time of change, the moment when day becomes next, when an owl becomes a man for one day a year. Who will witness this marriage? Who officiate the rites? I’m cold stone, speechless, muttering to myself in three languages. Yet I witness. I witness.

* * *

18. Eleri, Breathless

Him. Transformed. I swirl my cloak

to cover him. Hold him close,

his human self dizzying

after so long apart.

“Marry me, my love.

Let this oath-stone be our witness.

Let the smallest owl officiate.”

The stone’s silent in the darkness.

The smallest owl hoots his last.

We’re married. I think.

Tomorrow will tell

if the transformation’s true.

If my love becomes owl

with another day’s turn,

well, we’ll wait another year

for now I’ve found him.

* * *

19. The Prince, No Longer of Owls

I trace her jawline with my human hands,

hold her close with human arms,

whisper to her with human voice.

We walk towards the dawn and our future.

* * *

20. The Magpies, Chattering

We couldn’t guarantee her

happiness. But we pushed

and she took to the air,

her deeds like wings.

Resilience / Empowerment

After

JENNA HANCHEY

14 lines, first published April 2025

“After” is inspired by those in my life who have the bravery to be soft and vulnerable in a world that makes that dangerous and scary, and the deep and beloved connections we've formed together across differences, dreaming of collective change that can enable worlds where such softness and vulnerability don't have to be so risky — emergent worlds of reciprocity and care.

* * *

After by Jenna Hanchey, a collage illustration featuring stars and planets and moons and rugged landscape. The collage text forms a poem, which is transcribed on the next page.

after.

all speak up,

rampaging

changing the world

happily we

think outside the box.

Beyond your dreams.

Give in to spontaneous creativity

desire

you’ll

get caught up in the mystique and magic

take care

be a softie

psssst…

— it’s far from over

In Case of Emergency

ALETHEA KONTIS

24 lines, first published December 2023

I kept her Mint-in-Box

Tied up tight

Safe and dusted

Some fool would pay a ton for her someday

Enough to buy a better car

A better house

A better life

Someday

In case of emergency

And then came Pestilence

and War

(Famine and Death were already here to begin with)

Volcanoes and earthquakes

Storms and asteroids

Rockets that couldn’t leave Earth fast enough

So even though no fool wanted her

I broke the glass and untied

Emerged from that box

Got in a car and drove into the storm

Lived that life

Unsafe, unapologetic

With gratitude for this Earth

and that Chaos

(The emergency was already here to begin with)

Tithe

HÉCTOR GONZÁLEZ

24 lines, first published October 2023

I just caught our 8-year old sitting on a chair on our porch.

Again.

I felt a faint breeze. The door was open. He was sitting there,

Staring and smiling at the pounding rain outside.

So now I am too.

Chores can wait.

Work can wait.

Life can wait.

I am watching the rain with my dear boy.

He died on this day, 7 years ago.

He sits, mulling the rain, silently.

[I missed his smile]

I sit next to him, doing nothing.

I have never asked anything. I just accept this.

As always, after a few minutes, he touches my hand.

It isn’t cold.

It is relieving.

Slowly, my heart feels lighter. My years feel younger. My eyes shine brighter.

I’ve stayed at this old house, just for this.

He feeds off my grief.

My tears flow freely. My eyes are closed while I weep and weep and weep.

And as every year, I just feel a light kiss on my forehead.

I wipe my tears and the rain is still going.

I am alone on my front porch, happily grieving and smiling.

Cycle of Life

MANNY CARTAGENA

12 lines, first published December 2024

Sunny Day

Watch as the bee lands.

Smell as the petals extend.

Sun centers this meet.

Rainy Day

Even dark May clouds

Give the water needed to

Keep bud’s bloom on pace.

Summer Falls

July heat can turn

flowers brown. Fall’s chill can too.

New life will follow.

Gospel for the Old

HOPE JOSEPH

13 lines, first published April 2024

You would think they're daisies

swaying to the melodious notes of the wind.

It doesn't matter how;

dancing is more of the soul

than of the body—

you danced best

when you dance old

and happy.

Inherited traumas, &

eternal reign of despair—

That you lived to see another

possible trouble

is good news.

I Choose

HOPE JOSEPH

17 lines, first published December 2024

Better than gold—

This ethereal breeze

against my skin,

this glittering moon,

this breath.

To be here is a big victory already.

All my life—

I have tricked death,

survived the unknown,

and outlived my fears

like a pair of old shoes.

Tonight I choose what chooses me.

I choose luck. I choose God.

I choose earth. I choose Goodness.

I choose people — good people.

I choose peace for a planet.

I choose my right to be alive.

After Loss

JONATHAN CHIBUIKE UKAH

25 lines, first published October 2023

After an unexpected loss,

Dismantling a great expectation,

Like stripping a statue of gold,

Or dimming an inner light,

Like the singing of a caged bird;

There comes a cooling period

Of reconciliation, of reconstruction

Of old times or striped heart;

The mind struggles to repair

The broken walls, torn parts,

Patch up the dissipated bits of hope

And make life worth moving again.

After a great loss

You will know where to rise,

Though no star dances before you,

The tide ebbs and water returns to the sea;

The sun falls upon the piled rubble

Upon shards of bottomless glass

Spinning on the floor like paper,

The parts of your frazzled heart

Must learn to fly around like a feather

Holding no grudges, scattering calm

Without the spill of blood;

In the silence that ensues,

Love is reborn.

* * *

Jonathan Chibuike Ukah lives in the United Kingdom with his family. His poems have been featured and will soon be featured in Ariel Chart, Boomer Literary Magazine, Compass Rose Literary Magazine, Daylight Zine, Ephemera Literary Review and elsewhere. He is a winner of the Voices of Lincoln Poetry Contest 2022 and a finalist of the African Diaspora Award 2023.

All the Lights We Cannot See

JONATHAN CHIBUIKE UKAH

38 lines, first published April 2025

The day my grandfather reincarnated,

after about seventy years of death,

during which their graves were on a cusp of ruin.

He said that it seemed like seventy days.

He narrated his odyssey to my mother,

who in his previous lifetime was his daughter.

He returned with the same obsession with tobacco,

the same hunger for cassava,

the same passion for cigarettes and piping.

He asked about the blue long-sleeved shirt,

black trousers, and black shoes

he wore for his daughter's traditional wedding.

It was as if he went to another town

and returned, remembering the things he left behind.

He told her about what he saw,

though one which stuck on him like the clouds to the sky

was the dream he had of a burning flame.

He dreamed that his uncle, who died twenty years earlier

appeared from an ambush to push him into a burning bush.

The fire emitted dark smoke,

his skin was melting like butter,

but there was a miracle that allowed him to escape.

My mother smiled, relieved to hear

that even the dead do dream,

and there are miracles where death prevailed

without harnessing heaps of broken bones.

The dry bones will resurface with fresh muscles,

the brown and broken roots,

though on the cusp of ruins and death,

will become a home for green flowers,

empty ponds will be a valley of fresh water,

and the dead will return wearing new apparel

and the glorious clothes of victory.

Darkness is a veil; the night is a curtain,

and within the shield of blackness,

there is gold glittering in the light.

That we cannot see the light does not make it a night,

as truth is a sword that pierces through a mirror.

A Slice of Cake

JONATHAN CHIBUIKE UKAH

22 lines, first published August 2024

Life is a slice of cake.

It’s a confetti of sharing;

we cannot eat and cling to it.

All that we hunger after is the glory,

which comes hereafter if we survive.

In pursuit of glory, there is no fear,

for it is the perfection of love

which entertains no anger.

With the excitement of love, there is a future,

but where sorrow conquers, love is dethroned.

If I had feared the coming of the future,

I had not loved enough for victory,

since the courage to win over fear and hate

comes from the depths of love and hope;

In the face of victory, we tremble like a boiling kettle,

our mettle oozes out like vapours toward the sky.

Life is like a piece of cake,

It's for sharing, not eating alone,

else when it gets stuck in our throat,

there will be no one to drag it out.

And for that, we must all be brothers,

so that our anger will not get to our bones

Art by Miyusa Ashibara

I’ll Be Your Balloon

ALINA SIDOROVA

13 lines, first published April 2025

You know,

apples don’t always have worms in them

words aren’t always

long     opulent     caterpillars

It doesn’t always rain and

stories aren’t always altars to woes

We don’t live in static;

we live in motion

So you bring your dim days and tiny tragedies

the prickliness of life

But I’ll bring my dandelion elves and eyelash-wish gnomes

Your raindrops draped in my fairy lights

We’ll make the world a fuller place

Content Notes

“Story Sits in Places” by Marie Brennan implies painful histories and mentions bones.

“One Day, Gravity Stopped” by Noah Berlatsky briefly refers to hedgehogs not being able to breathe (but everything turns out okay in the end!).

“Princess and Crows” by Mari Ness features a woman imprisoned in a tower.

“I Pupated by Accident on a Cold Night” by Tehnuka describes pupation, and even though it is not itself about insects, may trigger the same kinds of feelings for people who have insect aversion.

“Fabric Hoard” by Priya Sridhar refers to blood, implied violence, and forced marriages.

“You Are a Monster” by Beth Cato acknowledges trauma and children who need social workers.

“Reliable Girls” by Sara Cleto and Brittany Warman shows toads coming out of a woman’s mouth.

“In Winter, a Wedding” by Sara Norja contains a description of a human being transformed into an owl including feathers piercing skin.

“Tithe” by Héctor González is about the ghost of a child, and refers to the death of a child and to parents grieving.

“I’ll Be Your Balloon” by Alina Sidorova mentions worms and caterpillars.

“All the Lights We Cannot See” discusses death and reincarnation, and includes a sequence about being burned by flames.

About the Contributors

Alethea Kontis is a storm chaser, adventurer, and New York Times bestselling author of over 20 books and 50 short stories. She has received the Scribe Award, the Garden State Teen Book Award, and is a two-time winner of the Gelett Burgess Children’s Book Award. She was twice nominated for both the Andre Norton Nebula and Dragon Award. She narrates stories for online magazines and reviews books for NPR. Born in Vermont, Alethea currently resides on the Space Coast of Florida where she watches K-dramas with her teddy bear, Charlie. Together they are ARMY, VVS, and Black Roses. Find out more about Princess Alethea at aletheakontis.com

Alina Sidorova is a student by day and a writer by night. So far, her work has been published in the Blue Marble Review. She likes to hang up fairy lights and squish her fat cat.

Allison Burris grew up in the Pacific Northwest and currently lives in Oakland, California. Her poems embrace the whimsical and cozy, explore human connection, and affirm the power of stories. She received her MLIS from San Jose State University and her poetry appears or is forthcoming in various journals, including Instant Noodles, Heartline Spec, Muleskinner, After Happy Hour Review, and The Marbled Sigh. Connect with her via https://linktr.ee/allisonburris.

Angela Acosta, Ph.D. (she/her) is a bilingual Mexican American poet and Assistant Professor of Spanish at the University of South Carolina. She is a 2022 Dream Foundry Contest for Emerging Writers Finalist, 2022 Somos en Escrito Extra-Fiction Contest Honorable Mention, and Utopia Award nominee. Her poetry has appeared in Copihue Poetry, The Acentos Review, Shoreline of Infinity, and Radon Journal. She is author of Summoning Space Travelers (Hiraeth Publishing, 2022), A Belief in Cosmic Dailiness (Red Ogre Review, 2023), and Fourth Generation Chicana Unicorn (Dancing Girl Press, 2024).

Angela Liu is a Chinese-American writer/poet who writes about intergenerational trauma and weird things. She is a two-time Nebula Award and 2025 Astounding Award Finalist. Her work has also been nominated for the Hugo, Locus, Ignyte, and Rhysling Awards. She previously researched mixed reality storytelling at Keio University in Japan. Her stories and poems are published/forthcoming in Clarkesworld, Strange Horizons, Uncanny Magazine, Lightspeed, and Logic(s), among others. Check out more of her work at liu-angela.com or find her on Twitter/Instagram @liu_angela and on Bluesky @angelaliu.bsky.social

Anna Kolischyk is an artist from Ukraine. She’s annarycracy on Instagram, and you can commission art from her on fiverr at https://www.fiverr.com/anna_draw.

Ayida Shonibar (she/they) writes dark and wistful speculative fiction about misfits, monsters, mischief-makers. A Lambda Literary fellow and previous We Need Diverse Books mentee, they’ve also received support from the Horror Writers Association and Dream Foundry for their writing. Spanning genres and age categories, their short stories, essays, and poetry appear in various publications, including Silk and Sinew (Bad Hand Books), Heartlines Spec, The Skull & Laurel, Wilted Pages (Shortwave Publishing), Luminescent Machinations (Neon Hemlock), Nature Futures, Night of the Living Queers (Wednesday Books), and Transmogrify! (Harper Teen), among others. You can find more information at ayidashonibar.com.

Bogi Takács (they/them or e/em pronouns) is a writer, poet, critic and scholar of speculative literature. Bogi is a Hungarian Jewish immigrant to the US, a winner of the Hugo and Lambda awards, and a finalist for other awards like the Ignyte and the Locus. Eir second short story collection Power to Yield and Other Stories was published earlier in 2024 by Broken Eye Books, and eir poetry collection Algorithmic Shapeshifting is available from Aqueduct.

Nebula Award-nominated Beth Cato is the author of A Thousand Recipes for Revenge and A Feast for Starving Stone from 47North plus two fantasy series from Harper Voyager. She’s a Hanford, California native now moored in Red Wing, Minnesota. She usually has one or two cats in close orbit. Follow her at BethCato.com, on Blue Sky at @BethCato, and Instagram as @catocatsandcheese.

C. S. E. Cooney is the World Fantasy Award- winning author of Bone Swans: Stories. Other books include The Twice-Drowned Saint, Saint Death’s Daughter (nominated for the World Fantasy Award in Novels), Dark Breakers (finalist for the Locus Award, and nominated for the World Fantasy Award in Collections), and Desdemona and the Deep. Forthcoming from Outland Entertainment is Negocios Infernales, a TTRPG she co-designed with her husband Carlos Hernandez. Find her online at csecooney.com.

Cislyn Smith likes playing pretend, playing games, and playing with words. She has been known to crochet tentacles, write stories at odd hours, and study stone dead languages. She is occasionally dismayed by the lack of secret passages in her house, and often inclined to make lists and puns and lists of puns. Her poems and stories have appeared in Strange Horizons, Diabolical Plots, and The Deadlands, among other places else-internet. Cislyn is a graduate of the Viable Paradise workshop, and co-editor of Small Wonders Magazine. When she’s not writing or editing, she spends time behind the scenes at the Dream Foundry, helping creators across the speculative arts to connect with helpful resources and level up their craft. She is co-convention chair for Flights of Foundry, an annual virtual convention.

Dawn Vogel has written for children, teens, and adults, spanning genres, places, and time periods. She is a member of Codex Writers. She lives in Seattle with her awesome husband (and fellow author), Jeremy Zimmerman, and their cats. Visit her: historythatneverwas.com or Twitter @historyneverwas.

Eliseeva Elizaveta is an artist from Ukraine. You can find more of her work on Instagram where she is @eeva_veta, and on Behance at https://www.behance.net/eliseeva96veta

Elizabeth R. McClellan is a white disabled gender/queer neurospicy demisexual lesbian poet writing on unceded Quapaw and Chickasha Yaki land in what settlers call the Mid-South. In kan other life, ka is a domestic and sexual violence attorney. Ka is a previous winner of the Naked Girls Reading Literary Honors Award, a 2023 Rhysling Award finalist, and recipient of the Judi Neri Scholarship for Disabled Poets. Kan work has appeared in Utopia Science Fiction, The Future Fire, Strange Horizons, Nightmare Magazine, Apex Magazine, Heroic Fantasy Quarterly, Chrome Baby, Apparition Lit, and others, including Salt, Sand, Blood: An Anthology of Sea Horror and the Bram Stoker Award nominated Mother: Tales of Love and Terror anthology. Work from kan is forthcoming in Kaleidotrope, There Used to Be a House Here and the Utopia Science Fiction Best of Utopia anthology. Kan can be found on Twitter and Bluesky as @popelizbet, on Substack at popelizbet.substack.com, and on Patreon at patreon.com/ermcclellan.

Grace Chadwick is an illustrator, painter, and writer from Port Arthur, Texas with a BFA in painting from Lamar University creating fantasy artwork. She has created illustration work for various clients in the entertainment industry and has worked with partner and artist Gonzalo Alvarez (Gonzzink) to create graphic novels. In 2022, she co-founded Studio Tecuanis designing games and merchandise.

Dealing with mental and physical health and trauma, she uses her artwork to escape into other worlds illustrating the beauty and pain of her life experiences. She is also finishing coloring and co-writing a graphic novel ,“Polloman,” to be published by Harper Collins in 2026.

Héctor González (they/them) is a queer nonbinary Mexican speculative writer living in Austin, TX. They regularly explore the messy Venn diagram of emotions with other things, like immigration policy, gender norms, food, and whatnot. Their first comic, Florescent, part of the Chispa Comics universe, will be released in February but can be pre-ordered through your local comic shop. You can find them on Instagram as @mexicanity, cooking up a storm and talking again about feelings.

Hope Joseph is an essayist, and poet. He writes from Nigeria, West Africa. His works are forthcoming or already published in Notre Dame, Christian Science Monitor, Augur, Stormbird, SolarPunk, Riddlebird, Reckoning, The Sunlight Press, A Longhouse, MukoliMag, Flute, Wizards in Space, Curio Cabinet, Speculative City, Timber Ghost Press, IBUA, SprinNG, Evening Street Press, Zoetic Press, Spillwords, Writers Space Africa, and more. A Best of the Net and Pushcart Prize nominee. A finalist for the SEVHAGE Prize (nonfiction). He's a reader for Reckoning Press. He was a fellow in the 2021 SprinNG Writing Fellowship.

Ian Li (he/him) is a Chinese-Canadian writer and poet, who started writing in late 2023 after a lifetime of believing he could never be creative. He also enjoys spreadsheets, statistical curiosities, and brain teasers. Find his work published in Nightmare Magazine, Small Wonders, and Strange Horizons, among other venues. Learn more at https://ian-li.com.

Indigo Rue (they/she) is an author of speculative fiction and definitely not a hue of blue masquerading as a human. Indigo lives in California with their half-orange and three-cat salad: Basil, Olive, and Feta. Indigo's work has previously been published under the name E. S. Hovgaard. Find more of Indigo's work at indigorue.com.

J. D. Harlock is an Eisner-nominated American writer, researcher, editor, and academic pursuing a doctoral degree at the University of St. Andrews, whose writing has been featured in Business Insider, Newsweek, The Cincinnati Review, Strange Horizons, Nightmare Magazine, The Griffith Review, Queen’s Quarterly, and New York University's Library of Arabic Literature. You can find him on LinkedIn, Bluesky, Twitter & Instagram.

Jean Goulbourne is a poet, short story writer, novelist, and educator from Cross Keys, Manchester, Jamaica. She worked as an educator in secondary schools and colleges, and was part of the writing team for The Butterfly Series, now known as The Blue Mahoe, a 25 book series for reluctant adolescent readers. She is also the author of several other books for children published by a variety of Jamaican and British publishers, including the young adult novella When the Bitter Bush Blossoms.

Her books for adults include the short story collection, The Parable of the Mangoes, available through Abeng Press, which (under the title Caged Birds) was runner up for the Una Mason prize in 1995, a poetry collection, Woman Song, and a novel, Excavation, both available through Peepal Tree Press.

Individually, her stories and poems have appeared in Savacou, Bim, The New Voices, The Caribbean Writer, Nimrod, New Poets of Jamaica, The Literary Review, Focus, Pathways, Dreamrock, Facing the Sea, Caribbean Poetry, Caribbean Poetry Now, New World English, Bite In, Oxford book of Caribbean Poetry, The Daily News, The Jamaica Record, The Jamaica Herald, The Sunday Gleaner, The Sunday Observer Arts Magazine, The Children’s Own, Scribbles, Metamorphosis, Caribbean Challenge and other magazines throughout the Caribbean.

Her poetry collection, A New Day is available from Worlds of Possibility.

Jeff Reynolds is a writer from rural down east Maine, a fabulous place that is really real and not a dream of Stephen King's. He's co-editor of Trollbreath Magazine, as well as creator of the Speculative Fiction Magazine Database, a place where readers can connect with and support short story publishers. His short stories have appeared in magazines from Clarkesworld to GigaNotoSaurus, and his work is strangely popular in Australia. You can learn more about him and his writing at https://www.trollbreath.com

Jenna Hanchey (she/her) is just discovering that getting a C in 5th grade art doesn't mean she's not an artist. She engages with collage, watercolor, acrylics, and photography to explore grief, imagine possibilities, center intimacies, and engender hope. Find more of her work at www.jennahanchey.com.

Jonathan Chibuike Ukah is a Pushcart-nominated poet from the United Kingdom. His poems have been featured in Propel Magazine, Atticus Review, The Pierian, Unleash Lit, The Silk Road, Lucky Jefferson and elsewhere. He won the Alexander Pope Poetry Award in 2023 and the Second Prize of the Streetlight Poetry Prize in 2024. His poetry collection, I Blame My Ancestors, won the Second Runner-up at the Summer Poetry Slam Prize of Kingsman Quarterly in 2024.

Julia Kim is on instagram as mulanartist. She says, “I’m from Mykolaiv, Ukraine. I love to create cute little designs that help me to donate to charity organisations of Ukraine.”

Lorraine Schein is a New York writer and poet. Her work has appeared in VICE Terraform, Strange Horizons, NewMyths and Michigan Quarterly, and in the anthologies Wild Women and Tragedy Queens: Stories Inspired by Lana del Rey & Sylvia Plath. The Futurist’s Mistress, her poetry book, is available from Mayapple Press. Her book of stories and poems, The Lady Anarchist Cafe, is out now from Autonomedia.

https://autonomedia.org/product/the-lady-anarchist-cafe/

Manny Cartagena is a writer from idyllic Berks County, PA. He has been a regular of the Eastern and Central PA arts and literary scenes for years. Manny's work ranges from poetry to short story to novel-length fiction.

Marie Brennan is the Hugo, Nebula, and World Fantasy Award-nominated author of the Memoirs of Lady Trent, the Onyx Court, other fantasy series, several poems, and over ninety short stories. As half of M.A. Carrick, she’s also written the Rook and Rose trilogy. Find her at swantower.com and on Patreon.

Margaret E. Winikates is an author/poet, parent, and museum professional from Massachusetts. She likes to write works full of optimism and whimsy, and has stories, poems, and essays published in a variety of markets including all the sins, Zetetic: A Record of Unusual Inquiry, and other places, including public art such as the "Raining Poetry" temporary installation created by the Emily Dickinson Museum in Amherst, MA. When not taking her kids to museums or reading them stories about lovable robots, Meg likes to play music, craft, and travel. Find more of Meg's work at mwinikates.com or follow her on Bluesky at @winikat.bsky.social or Instagram at @megwinikates.

Mari Ness is a queer poet, author, and now, Hugo Award finalist for "Ever Noir," a poem combining fairy tale and noir films. Other work appears in multiple zines and anthologies, including Reactor, Clarkesworld, Lightspeed, Uncanny, Nightmare, Apex, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Strange Horizons, Haven Spec, and the forthcoming Silent Nightmares anthology from Saga Press. Ness lives in central Florida, occasionally chatting with live oak trees, and watching alligators rest near waterways. For more, visit marikness.wordpress.com, or https://bsky.app/profile/mariness.bsky.social.

Mary Soon Lee is a Grand Master of the Science Fiction & Fantasy Poetry Association, and winner of the AnLab Readers' Award, Dwarf Stars Award, Elgin Award, Rhysling Award, and Utopia Award. An illustrated edition of her epic fantasy told in poems, The Sign of the Dragon, was published in 2025. She hides behind a cryptically named website (marysoonlee.com) and BlueSky account (@marysoonlee.bsky.social).

Miyusa Ashibara is an artist from Indonesia. You can find her on instagram as @miyusa.ashibara.

Noah Berlatsky (he/him) is a freelance writer in Chicago. His full-length collections are Not Akhmatova (Ben Yehuda Press, 2024), Gnarly Thumbs (Anxiety Press, 2025), Meaning Is Embarrassing (Ranger, 2025) and Brevity (Nun Prophet, 2025).

A 2016 MBA graduate and published author, Priya Sridhar has been writing fantasy and science fiction for fifteen years, and counting. Capstone published the Powered series. Priya lives in Miami, Florida with her family.

Sara Cleto and Brittany Warman are folklorists, teachers, and writers who co-founded The Carterhaugh School of Folklore and the Fantastic, where they teach creative souls how to re-enchant their lives through folklore and fairy tales. They earned their PhDs in English and Folklore from The Ohio State University in 2018. They have authored more than four dozen publications and lectured at venues such as the Library of Congress, the Smithsonian Institution, and the Maryland Renaissance Festival. You can find their poetry and prose in Uncanny, Corvid Queen, Star*Line, and others, and you can find them online at http://www.carterhaughschool.com. Their first book, Fairylore, is forthcoming in 2026.

Sara Norja writes in two languages; she was born in England and lives in Helsinki, Finland. Her English short fiction and poetry has appeared in venues including Goblin Fruit, Lackington’s, Fireside, and Strange Horizons. Her works in Finnish include a nonfiction book on alchemy and a queer verse novel. Sara is @suchwanderings on Instagram and @saranorja.bsky.social on Bluesky; her website is saranorja.com.

Solape Adetutu Adeyemi is a dedicated professional with a Bachelor's degree in Microbiology and a Master's in Environmental Management. She is a researcher, a consultant, a passionate environmental sustainability enthusiast and a talented award winning creative writer, with her works published in esteemed journals and magazines, including Writenow Literary Journal, TV Metro, Poetry Marathon Anthology, the Guardian newspaper, the Kalahari review and the Indiana review among others.

With close to two decades of experience, Solape has excelled in various roles within the Fast-Moving Consumer Goods (FMCG) industry with varying certifications: ISO certifications (International Standards Organisation), a Basic level certificate in Spanish, Behavioural management, Mental Health, Office etiquette, Advanced Excel, Health, Safety and Environment, script writing and movie production plus Modern HR management. Her commitment to environmental causes aligns with her belief that everyone can contribute to saving our planet.

Beyond her professional life, Solape enjoys watching action movies and immersing herself in whale documentaries. She is a host, presenter, teacher, counsellor, voice over artiste, script writer, poet, and movie subtitler. Her diverse interests reflect her curiosity about the world and her commitment to learning.

Solape is a member of the following bodies: the American Society of Microbiologists(ASM), the Association of Nigerian Authors, Lagos chapter(ANA)and Poets in Nigeria(PIN)

Currently, Solape serves as the Vice Chairman of the Association of Nigerian Authors in Lagos, Nigeria, where she continues to contribute to the literary and cultural landscape of her community. Her dedication to both her professional career and advocacy for environmental sustainability demonstrates her multifaceted talents and unwavering commitment to making a positive impact in the world.

Solape can be reached at solapeadeyemi1@gmail.com and 08033487417.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100022053407818&mibextid=ZbWKwL

Linkedln: https://www.linkedin.com/in/solape-adetutu-adeyemi-5a029512a

Tehnuka (www.tehnuka.dreamhosters.com) is a writer from Aotearoa New Zealand who calls on all of us to use our wonderful, unique minds and/or bodies in whatever ways we can to refuse and resist the genocide of Palestinian people and the colonisation of Palestine. Resist with every breath and deed until Palestine is free — until we are all free.

Zaynab Iliyasu Bobi, Frontier I, is a Nigerian-Hausa poet, artist, and a Medical Laboratory Scientist from Bobi. She is the author of Cadaver of Red Roses (O, Miami Books), winner of the 2023 Derricotte/Eady Chapbook Prize, and Uncensored Snapshots, forthcoming with Chestnut Review in 2025. X @ZainabBobi.