unfurling the plastered papyrus of a dead little girl guffawing; what novelty! gripping her dislodged jaw gnashing her teeth together – look at
Author: Malachi Sigmund
Poetry: Psychopomp
Lijiang marketplace.
The moon gleamed like an eye.
I, a man,
With no teeth, and no eyes,
Bit the head of a child,
And leer from the rooftops as the streets are taken
By the procession of a one hundred demons,
Each writhing and screaming and more bloated
Each one more foul an abomination than
The last twisted soul that pranced behind it.