she smells of wilting, white roses; Zora (Premature Decomposition)

Jaiden Thompson

my kidney decays like a sickly newborn & 

mama says it’s Premature Decomposition; 

sounds like a lover i’ve finally met, 

trodding away on a cracked rib cage, 

pupils melting beneath sticky eyelids. 

she’s curled her skin all pretty like 

a honey brown marilyn monroe; 

tell me you never wanted to live; 

we can never get old, my love. 

but no one knows she cowered 

beneath those sobbing boys 

on the 4th (fire melting the sky) 

& stared at the bullet holes 

in their bones then broke down. 

death’s holler shatters her so 

the storm inside her sings soft. 

& my lover loves waltzing. 

backyard jazz concerts 

ignite her shallow throat 

& she’ll sing broken lullabies, 

cradling her beaten baby. 


my kidney aches like a drum 

& eyelids shutter open. 



i rename her: 




Zora is a muddy Nile 

cloaked in sparkling sea foam 

& crackling fish ossein. 

she lays my innards

in a bursting sea. see: 

i am dying afloat. 



dying dying dying 



the science of Zora’s heartbeat: 

a vulture’s carcass painted with spit & daisy petals. chewing on urvogel bones, she breathes my drumming. 



Zora envelopes me in bare limbs & mama snaps her own tendons. 



dying dying dying. 

we sip marrow & dance


art by cy @cyberwitch666

Jaiden Thompson (they/them) is a young writer walking the line between poetic genius and foolery. They have work published or forthcoming in Superfroot, All Guts No Glory, Southchild, perhappened and COUNTERCLOCK, among others. They are also an editor for Interstellar Literary Review. Learn more about them here: