Issue 16 (Winter 2026)
Infinite Possibilities
By Rosalyn Robilliard
My kind are not made to be caged. We drop in, try on skins of supple flesh, oil-slick feathers and sequinned scales, then crawl, fly, dive through forests of steam and teeth, drink sulphur from copper oceans, dance in markets of sweat and spice. Then back up, planet to planet, we skip across lives. An endless chasm of ink black velvet peppered with fiery stars and possibility. Forever expanding, rushing outwards.
“This is not for you,” he says, hand tight on my shoulder. Cracked hangnails and liver spots, musty and damp.
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