Vespers lie across the floor
Perched on dark mouths
That have emerged from the
Nearby church. Angels
With broken wings have fallen
With delicate, pale feet
Dipped in cold misery onto
The earth. The door has averted
Itself so the landscape
No longer strains its view. The
Church paints over the
Stained glass windows. The vespers fly
Out of windows. The red lips curl into
* poem, in its entirety, is available in the printed version of the current issue.
Mazzy Sleep is a nine-year-old from Toronto, who began writing during the pandemic. She has written over 1,000 dark fantasy/horror poems, short stories, and songs, as well as two feature screenplays. Her poetry has appeared in Hawai'i Pacific Review and Lunch Ticket’s Amuse-Bouche series. In her spare time, she watches weird cinema, horror films, and Japanese anime.