Acid rain is an uncut song that emeralds our matte metropolis, slippery with dirt and chlorophyll, a bright black spot on God’s sweaty palm. I can’t write music, says my other dog, before vomiting carrot greens on the hand-me-down rug. Certainty is a Happy Meal toy in a landfill, proudly assembled in the factory employing all the folks in town. If you’re here, and I’m here, who is going to feed and water the dogstar? It has gone quiet with pain, but its one remaining eye can still see faraway shapes.
O Aslan
Acid rain is an uncut song that emeralds our matte metropolis, slippery with dirt and chlorophyll, a bright black spot on God’s sweaty palm. I can’t write music, says my other dog, before vomiting carrot greens on the hand-me-down rug. Certainty is a Happy Meal toy in a landfill, proudly assembled in the factory employing all the folks in town. If you’re here, and I’m here, who is going to feed and water the dogstar? It has gone quiet with pain, but its one remaining eye can still see faraway shapes.
Issue 9
https://manyworlds.place/issue-9/zoe-korte/
by Zoe Korte
Zoe Korte is a mad & queer writer whose work has appeared in Maudlin House, new words {press}, Frontier Poetry, & more. They reside on Peoria & Osage land with their partner & two tortoiseshell cats. You can find them on Instagram @zoekpoetry or Bluesky @mostlymosspoetry.