By Nancy Hightower

the last glance you gave me

melted into dark branches,

and i felt the firm body of fruit

sink into my hand.


now we’re muted in ivy,

my stomach, stretched and empty.

your back still glistens with sweat.

at night, i become a blind puzzle,

voluptuously divided—

lips, breast, thigh,

a weight to be laid down and tasted.


in this only, death seems welcome—

that you may once again look upon me

with eyes un-cursed.



Nancy Hightower’s short fiction and poetry has been published in Strange Horizons, Word Riot, storySouth, Gargoyle, Interfictions, Prick of the Spindle, and The New York Quarterly, among others.  Her debut novel Elementari Rising came out with Pink Narcissus Press in 2013, and her poetry “The Acolyte” will be published by Port Yonder Press. She currently reviews science fiction and fantasy for The Washington Post.

Comments are closed.