Blood Red

by Jennifer Crow

Entire worlds collapse into this moment

when that crimson droplet, heart-blood,

trembles and falls onto the drift of snow

The wind has blown for days, sweeping

a storm before it, blizzard’s depths

blocking doorways and windows

The blank grey sky mirrors attenuated

shadow, a pale slate ready for scribing

with footprints and trails and misshapen men

This spindle jabs deep, piercing between

ribs, driving its story into beating muscle

and drawing out death—a story torn

From a tattered book, a line erased

with a sharp gesture, a muttered curse

cold as the wind, and twice as harsh

*

Shy and nocturnal, Jennifer Crow has never been photographed in the wild, but it’s rumored that she lives near a waterfall in western New York. Her work has appeared in a number of print and electronic venues, including Uncanny Magazine, Asimov’s Science Fiction, The Wondrous Real and Analog Science Fiction. Curious readers can catch up with her on Twitter @writerjencrow.