Grief, as Told By AI

by Rachael Crosbie


to know that she kissed me // her velvet dress trailing // violet wind behind // with night wheeling on
I’ll be haunted by her weepy blue, dead eyes // sticky with color // the soft skin of her chest // and her sallow body // soaked in sweat and light
I stare out // into the sun // into a primal white sky // into these dreams that are only dreams


This cento borrows lines and words from one poem in Issue 17, Rachael Crosbie (“Versions of Fire), and from several in Issue 11: Kathleen M. Heideman (“Creationists on the Fossil Exhibit Trail – N 43°46’22.7” W 102°00’10.4” and “Panorama Point Overlook – N 43°47’75” W 102°03’67”), Christy Alexander Hallberg (“Copperhead”), Chris Muravez (“Letters to Dick”), Virginia Henry (“The Heart Is”), Elisa Karbin (“Body Heat”), torrin a. greathouse (“Unfinished Scenes”), Joseph Felkers (“Tarot”), Gail C. Dimaggio (“Something About Love”)

Rachael Crosbie (they/them) is the Editor-in-Chief and Founder of the winnow magazine. Rachael has three poetry chapbooks published: self-portrait as poems about bad poetry, swerve, and MIXTAPES. Their next poetry chapbook, Trick Mirror or Your Computer Screen, is forthcoming with fifth wheel press. You can find them on Twitter @rachaelapoet posting about squishmallows, She-Ra and The Princesses of Power, and their cats.

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