Good God I cannot write this now,

I am under siege

By the mad cow disease.

I see bulls and ox, cocks and swine

Filtering the most divine,

I see their teeth and watch them glisten,

I pray and hope they cannot listen.

‘Fear,’ I whispered, ‘is the most holy thing,

For you speak to the Lord

And hope He springs.’

I sit and wait behind the yellow wall,

I know the end, I know it all.

Man has turned on flies,

And man in turn dies.

The heaving beast will rest its eyes,

And all around it will very soon sigh.

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Crowley Klara Jade was born and raised in Windsor-Essex County, Ontario, and currently resides in Montreal, Quebec. With their mother French Canadian and their father Romani-Hungarian, Klara Jade had a very Roman-Catholic upbringing and discovered what it meant to be ‘sacrilegious’ very young. Their complicated relationship with the Catholic church resides in their work, emphasising on things like angels, demons, and everything in-between. Klara Jade hopes to open their audience to poems and stories that hold a comfortable horror–

horror that a reader can recognise and relate to, and almost become familiar with. If you make sense of something scary, is it really that terrifying? Enjoy the uncanny.