By Ada Jenkins I saw you before you came, your tiger eye, bright, pitiless, your death-belt loaded jewel loins. When you broke into me, constellations wept, bleeding stars from my womb, tearing me from myself, mastered by your universe. You withdraw, a shard, a shimmer of self splintering as you leave me, hanging loose, a driftwood shadow. Added to your collection of corpses, your kingdom, your cloud of dominion. You didn’t notice my soul, as it fluttered, delicate; fragile,

By Sophie Daly-Atkinson My chest cavity is torn in two as the moon grinds her white chthonic thumb, glutting on air thread through wooden lungs, slipping over earth like a fat unseeing god. I dream of wings peeling my back, a soar that soaks up the sky, cleaving blue with my two-pronged swords. I think I am dying, or I am already Death, my flesh a century of prayer, a cemetery of dirt swallowed by the tide, my body a bloodless dartboard for Time. #DarkPoetsClub

By Simona Volpe There's no one here at night Only the wind that shakes my body I have only my sad story to recall You, alas, have many macabre tales to tell. Sometimes you come back here, To that tree in the woods, Where my forgotten corpse swings, Innocent prey of your misdeeds. As you walk in the woods, I watch you With my empty, blind eyes That look painfully into the past As I think back on my unfortunate life. I was born close and familiar to death I saw women weep over