By Kayla Bashe
russet, maroon, and burgundy, darker even than flame
like roses; not the cloying petals, but the green heart of their living, sharp and fresh (call her a dream without a name)
lindworm, sigil hoard
narrowing into ultraviolet above abrasive glowing scales, daring the world to answer for its sins
polished like summer-thunderstorm air over the luminous, icemelt under the sun.
transformative anger. She is made of fire.
Kayla Bashe is a student at Sarah Lawrence College. Her fiction and poetry have appeared in Strange Horizons, Liminality Magazine, Mirror Dance, Ink and Locket’s Warriors anthology, Breath and Shadow, and Cicada magazine. She has also released several novellas. Find her on Twitter at @KaylaBashe.
Image credit: Clix Renfew via a Creative Commons license.
Share your thoughts about this.