Hearth at the edge of the barren
heath. Heart in the
flames, licking
his lips, he roasts the heart
of Fáfnir, devours it,
licking his fingers, heat
in his belly, heat on his lips,
heat in his heart, heat on the
heath, soon a battlefield, soon
a story to be told
around the hearth,
washed down by
the mead of poetry,
processed,
like the gold
in the splayed
otter. Death
is a prerequisite
to the growth of
heath. Heart in the
flames, licking
his lips, he roasts the heart
of Fáfnir, devours it,
licking his fingers, heat
in his belly, heat on his lips,
heat in his heart, heat on the
heath, soon a battlefield, soon
a story to be told
around the hearth,
washed down by
the mead of poetry,
processed,
like the gold
in the splayed
otter. Death
is a prerequisite
to the growth of
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Jacqueline Knirnschild is a writer from northeast Ohio, who is currently based in Tokyo. Her work has appeared in Ninth Letter, Poetry South, Full Stop, MORIA, and The Cleveland Review of Books, among other publications. Her fiction received first place in the 2025 Steve Grady Prize. She holds an M.A. in English from the University of Maine. You can find her on Instagram @JacqKnirn and read her published writing at https://linktr.ee/jacquelineknirnschild.
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