Please see our important Publisher’s Note following this month’s Editorial that has important information about a new threat to the survival of all SF/F/H magazines.
Flautist.
With your moss and crystal shoulders.
You sit cross-legged on the back of a turtle.
Marine reptile, saturn iris’d. holy dyad
into starlit waters.
Deep in miracle. Your legs grow fins,
Red planets tattoo onto you,
scales glimmer like spice.
Your fingers dance across cedar,
Sea-music like incense […] for lost gods.
You breathe a melody of answers
Into coral, whale and wave,
till sun-up.