MANGOES

The poem depicts the plight of Medieval villagers who have fallen prey to witches. They visited the hamlet guised as damsels and allured them into consuming the mangoes they had brought as an offering. The rural settlers were unaware of the fact that while they were enjoying this new delicacy, their beating hearts were growing as crops in the witches' lair.

Divine nectar, stranded

Wistful on their tongues,

The rural settlers linger

Vainly for another sighting of

Their guests — the damsels,

And a final taste of the foreign offering:

Unnamed summer fruit,

A richer golden than the exotic tresses,

A lusher meat than the cajoling lips.

Their visitors have departed

Without final pleasantries,

Off to reap the pulsating crop, born of

Their inane hamlet,

From every strip of fragrant peel

That has fleshed out tissues,

Each morsel of relish that has

Crafted their ventricles, carved out

Atria, squeezing out the last drops of their blood

From the wrung-out remains of the sweetest pulp

Into fresh arteries, clinging

To the insides of an obscure lair

That bears fruit now—crimson and luscious.

 

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Issue 1.1 Paperback

Purchasers will also receive access to downloadable desktop and phone wallpapers of our beautiful cover art created by the amazingly talented Katerina Belikova (aka Ninja Jo) and inspired by Chris Black’s story, “The Corpsehulk.“ If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact us!
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Featured in

Issue 1.1 Paperback

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Feel a mother’s love, learn what happens when songs end, and befriend the entity living behind the wallpaper in your house. Honor the bone god, come to terms with the past, and don’t let death stop you from exacting your revenge.

Whatever you do, steer clear of the shadows, don’t go anywhere without your EpiPen, and remember: your crew aren’t your friends.
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MANGOES

The poem depicts the plight of Medieval villagers who have fallen prey to witches. They visited the hamlet guised as damsels and allured them into consuming the mangoes they had brought as an offering. The rural settlers were unaware of the fact that while they were enjoying this new delicacy, their beating hearts were growing as crops in the witches' lair.

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