The Auguries, the Broken Birds
by Elizabeth A. Oates
my dreams are filled with dying birds, throats cut
to prevent their passage, my dreams are filled with lies.
men will spit blood on their new gods to win contests.
sweet Aeneas survives, but his lonely heroism
means nothing; he never believed me either. Truth dies
in my throat, like fading lines of birdsong.
I am sick of looking forward, backward,
and seeing nothing
but treacherous men.
Issue V will be available for download and purchase on Friday, 18th March.