Poetry

morphology
Strange Horizons (September 2024)

we are born as cobweb creatures, all
nerve-endings & capillaries, alveoli
& filament flesh.

skin hunger
Small Wonders (Year 2 Kickstarter Special Issue)

we eat ourselves in the dark, now.

there is not enough
to go around.

pockets full of stones
Uncanny Magazine (March 2024)

I dream, sometimes, of walking on the sea bed;
the calm press of salt like tears,
the sand.

silphium & salt
Uncanny Magazine (June 2023)

for the pearl must grow,
or so we’re told,
regardless of the oyster,
and if it rips the thing apart

so much the better.

heat death
Worlds of Possibility (March 2022)

shh, love, hush;
you will dream again soon,
and your skin will settle
around the constellations of your bones

seal bride
Mermaids Monthly (July 2021)

I will dry like kelp laid in vast furled sheets
across the basalt, like haddock peeled &
strung out over hickory flame

letters from the ides
Reckoning Magazine (July 2021)

we are become molluscs, in a way,
curled up soft and moist
within our shells.

photolinguistics
Reckoning Magazine (May 2021)

come, sit on the mountain, and
watch us speak to the stars.

Ossify
Climbing Lightly Through Forests (January 2021)

like tumbled stone, I allow myself
to be reclaimed. the thatch has fallen.
birch saplings sprung of puddled sun
tear open the hearth of me.

saltwashed
Uncanny Magazine (July 2020)

unpeel me from my skin & let us wash it in the sea;
the salt will scour sediment from my capillaries.

to put aside all fear
Liminality (March 2019)

in the thudding roar
of iron, I
will be cored through
like a waterfall

Apastron and Bisecting Infinity
A Visitor’s Guide to the Void (June 2018)

there is a tactile nature
to the deep roads, those paths
so far from any star
that my skin weeps in hunger

& I
am sparsely populated
with stars, void and patient.

Jennifer Mace