Hester J. Rook

When they come for me
silver-voiced and sceptre-tongued
carapaces glinting sunlight, segmenting into shadow in the spaces joining armour-plates
they will take me
soft and shaking (willing)
(a wet lick of whiskey burning on my lips)
in silence.
Their hair will shine like peeled steel
mandibles like iron
and they will take me
into softness
into silence
into shadow
and my newly silvered voice will shine like swordedge.


Hester J. Rook is an itinerant Australian with an unhealthy obsession with myth, dead languages and the circus.  She spends a lot of time scrawling poetry and short stories, and upside down on a trapeze – not usually at the same time.  She has previous and upcoming publications in Synaesthesia Magazine, Apex Magazine and Pidgeonholes.  You can find her on Twitter @kitemonster.

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