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The Metaworker Literary Magazine

Tag: death

“Untitled” by Simon Perchik

Posted on December 28, 2020

Even without a caress its petals wait, try more red than usual then sweets, sent along with the scent from the latest hillside till one grave blossoms before the others […]

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“Thin Places” by Steven Croft

Posted on December 7, 2020

Through a broad valley of baked brown dirt and sparse green trees,past mudbrick and stone villages of flat-topped houses, we climbthe Humvees up the mountain, over the quickly shrinking road […]

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“Gone” by BH James

Posted on December 4, 2020

Bob Sanders awoke one morning from a dream to discover that he no longer existed. He had died in the night. He had been fifty-eight years old when he died. […]

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“Glass” by Chariklia Martalas

Posted on November 16, 2020

Did they tell you Inferno was made from glass? Clear as truth turned upside down  You can see through to the bottom of the world  An everywhere that exists below […]

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“Nigh” by Scott Mitchel May

Posted on September 14, 2020

Harvey Olsen never had any interest in surviving any kind of apocalypse — not zombie, not viral, and certainly not nuclear. He honestly did not understand those who did. All […]

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“Flatline” by Mark Hammerschick

Posted on August 10, 2020

“through the view/of a hollow lens/like an eye surprised/by lost sight”

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“As We Know It” by Marco Etheridge

Posted on July 31, 2020

You pause in the center of the footbridge, a silver-bright ribbon running beneath you, gravel paths serpentine under the locust trees that define the banks of the creek. The sun […]

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“Death and Mercy” by Kim Malinowski

Posted on June 29, 2020

She wasn’t a phoenix, but she knew ash. She painted herself with coals, with cinders. War paint disguising the woman of the woods. She felt knighted,  unable to cry out […]

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“The Next One Who Dies Had Better Be Living” by John Grey

Posted on April 6, 2020

Kill the funeral please.Mow down the mourners.Assassinate the coffin. Hey. pallbearers,hands up. don’t move.And preacher man…none of your phony speeches…heaven’s what I say it is. Don’t you know how muchI […]

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“The Outcast Dead” by Ken Allan Dronsfield

Posted on October 21, 2019

“In the dead and dark of night,/
upon a haunted gorge they rise.” #metaworkermonday

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And Then He Died by Matthew Maichen

Posted on October 19, 2019

Hello, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, nonbinary individuals of all ages. It’s been a while since we had an update from the editor-in-chief, but I’m out of work for […]

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“Stripped” by James la Vigne

Posted on July 8, 2019

Having little to his name when he died, the reading of Henry Fromm’s will went quickly. Nothing surprising or contentious. On paper he never did anything surprising or contentious. He […]

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“It was Slow” by Kaileen Campbell

Posted on July 8, 2019

I sat and held             the world’s coldest hand.One whose skin had been taken by ice. The palm of a dried soul          […]

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“What Do Birds Do When Bombs Go Off” by Shah Tazrian Ashrafi

Posted on June 3, 2019

When bombs rattle the insides of houses, cafes, churches, Twisting and turning their intestines, Hurling their insides out, Bleeding them dry, What do the birds do? Other than shooting out […]

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“Bodily” by Gale Acuff

Posted on May 13, 2019

I don’t care if I’m dead as long as I’m still alive, in Heaven I mean though not Hell, I might be dead but I’ll still be lively, just somewhere […]

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“Forgotten Man” by Ann Christine Tabaka

Posted on April 29, 2019

Dust motes dance on sunlight streaming through a dingy window. Rusty mailbox, empty, always empty. Cadaverous cobwebs mocking back at him from a peeling wall. He sits alone in his […]

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“Death of Whydah Sibyl” by Ken Allan Dronsfield

Posted on February 4, 2019

Stand at ocean-side, exhale screams cut through dense air, her throat tightens releasing weird screeching caterwauls. The ice melts and Sibyl climbs the tower; in gown of white with gold lace; coat-less, […]

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“Ash Lee” by Robin Wyatt Dunn

Posted on October 29, 2018

Come with me, it won’t be far; we have all night, and the seasons with it, in your heart:  I’m dying. I’ll tell you about the nearer part of it, […]

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“Exit” by Anupama Kadwad

Posted on July 23, 2018

I force myself to open the closed lids To catch a glimpse of my surroundings Try my utmost to overcome the lethargy Shake myself free of the stupor Tiredness which […]

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“He Stared Down the Barrel of a Gun and He Saw Me” by Stephanie Luka

Posted on January 22, 2018

I watched you slide swiftly into the fog encapsulating Eagle Junction railway station. Scraps of rust leaking with oil-stained dew flung into the past, and in the faint glinting of […]

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“The Plum Tree” by Ken Allan Dronsfield

Posted on December 25, 2017

  How did the despair become fluid for clear, dry eyes to shed? Why did the burden on the heart allow the stress and cause the beat to finally stop […]

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“The Watcher” by Jenna Crosier

Posted on May 1, 2017

Every year, from the first I was assigned to the graveyard, I would watch the headstones from my place upon the highest pine tree. My job was to make sure […]

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“TRUTH #4: The Face Behind the Mirror” by Matthew Maichen

Posted on February 27, 2017

I only ever wrote to be close to you. You didn’t exist. I knew that. But it didn’t matter when I could create words that would conjure you. And someday, […]

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“Verb Tenses” by Meli Ewing

Posted on February 6, 2017

The letter I wrote Lilly first thing after I found out talks to her in the present tense, like she still exists, because she does still exist for me, or […]

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“The Living Dead” by John Short

Posted on December 12, 2016

I opened my eyes, emerging from a dream but couldn’t remember anything at all. Shame really because I’d always considered dream space a bit like going to the cinema without […]

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“Water” by Gabby Catalano

Posted on November 28, 2016

“He laid his head in my palms And I watched as he grew a garden of roses Across a dying field. He had the power to entrap me in flesh […]

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“Shadows” by Hanoch Guy

Posted on October 31, 2016

I. I jump at the slightest touch on my cracked back. Fierce mountain wind rushes around me. My ears, too long and pointy. A cold hand on my forehead makes […]

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“This is not a Political Poem” by Addison Namnoum

Posted on June 27, 2016

Addison Namnoum and The Metaworker Editorial Staff would like to dedicate this poem to the victims of the Orlando shooting, and to their friends, families, and lovers. This is a […]

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