Women in Horror Month Poem: End of days
End of days
End of days, I'm gone.
It's a harsh world,
The weeds growing through to clean me.
End of days, I'm gone.
Like the world before me,
Apocalyptic fissures dart from hearts,
To breasts, to the soul that lays fractured by a world.
End of days, I'm gone.
The mountains called me from this world,
Too high to climb, too sharp at their peaks,
It didn't take weeks to die, it took years,
Several death blows till I carried the apocalypse on slender shoulders.
To the mountains like old folk songs called me,
To absolution where the old peace called me,
To a melody where the old notes called me,
For the cracks caused by calloused hands,
Where the weeds will now grow,
And fill the gaps that men sowed.
Joanne writes sci-fi and horror under Joanne Askew, and writes alt-pop music under annie on the run. She achieved Amazon Best-Seller ranking for her inclusion in Unburied, an anthology of queer horror, and was featured on BBC Introducing for her song Deep Green. Her EP, The Summer is Dead, is out now.