Craw wanted show them his shadow 

by LS Cyning

Craw wanted show them his shadow

like they were friends, or noticing would agree.

the idea was horrid and commendable 

shy, the thing would not leave the house

unstick from the wardrobe’s niche

he bagged and dragged it behind

unable to trot with so heavy a shame, an excitement

the burlap smothered nicely protests. 

near calmly lifted, he was iron crossed over the stone 

Craw brought his shadow to the trees 

and tried the shewing by night

hoping for a good impression in a familiar hour

Soon as he unknotted the satchel’s grin

the shadow fled and buttressed in a gnarl

giving the rose a second set of teeth

and sat high in the twist, laughing. 

those trees that bothered, laughed

and twisted his tailfeather with wire

Craw brought back his shadow by day

where there was none to hide in the boughs

tongue cut short, and eyes put out. Look, he bid

the branches bent and grasses folded 

so roots could pass into the sunlight

and picked together at the verge

The sea was a non believer

a swarm of non believers 

the tide held up no on ceaseless papers 

Craw dragged his shadow to the bay 

and plunged the whole affair into the wet

the dun lump writhed and took in toxic blue

sugared, stark, his shadow started crying

unable to recognise the voice of throat and lips alone

the screams diminished, tumid with white papers

Sing, Craw commanded. One black foot buried 

in the sand and the other gripping 

the shadow’s violet neck

he ought been asking a February stem

bear a flower, fruit through the frost skin

the no was in the veins. blue blood lined up 

against blood vessel walls 

begged for mercy against their invaders

adjacent, no shadow’s flesh muffled the red shot

Sing. But the shadow merely laughed seawater

one pure nostril, mouth, perfectly exudant 

Sing. His shadow raked the ocean floor, burying pears and years

Till he could not stop it. With a rock in his claw

he came down, the shadow writhing away

Craw held its narrow with his neck

and brought the rock down

stamping both back together 

flew eastward, his shadow burning every beat

Author Bio: LS Cyning is a writer living in Manhattan, New York. Cyning works in long and short form fiction, poetry, and criticism with central concerns of memory, the history of language, as well as the value and possibility of preserving dead and dying cultures and adjacent comic topics. Previous careers have included the academic and classical dance; at this age the only remaining is literary. Cyning enjoys rowing, needlework, perennially disappointing sports teams and the company of three cats, one of which is a greyhound.

Artwork: “Petals” by Rachel Coyne

Artist Bio: Rachel Coyne is a writer and painter from Lindstrom MN.