Machine Gun Latté & other Urban Fantasy poems

Three new ​poems for you today from three new (to us) poets and all having a distinctly urban fantasy flavour. Our contributors are Amy Grech, Gillian Daniels, and Liu Chengyu.


Machine Gun/Latté
by Amy Grech

Poised and ready, 
a tall, lean 
National Guard 
Soldier, dressed in 
full camouflage regalia,  
stands at attention 
on the main concourse
of Penn Station in 
New York City.

In his right hand
he clutches a latté, frothy and warm, 
in a white 
Starbucks cup.

His left hand 
hovers above
a machine gun,  
slung over his shoulder,
cold and commanding, 
sleek and menacing.

His trigger finger twitches, 
roused by a jolt of caffeine.
Fuel for the fight.


* Amy Grech has sold over 100 stories to various anthologies and magazines including Apex Magazine,  Dead Harvest, Detectives of the Fantastic, Fright Mare,  and many others. New Pulp Press recently published her book of noir stories: Rage and Redemption in Alphabet City. Amy is an Active Member of the Horror Writers Association. Visit her at her website http://www.crimsonscreams.com and also follow her at https://twitter.com/amy_grech

​
Tourists of the Undead
by Gillian Daniels

In Paris, we walk catacombs edged with skeletons
from graveyards that overflowed,
the smell curdling milk in the old market.
Now here are plague victims
and merchants who traded in salt and ivory,
teeth all picked out in acid orange light.
Here’s a drum of femurs.
My friend’s guidebook says they have had masses here
to remind congregations of their mortality
and once a chamber orchestra on a dark, Victorian whim,
but these bones are quiet.

On the street, there are map vendors for Père Lachaise
where the case around Oscar Wilde’s gravestone is marked with kisses.

In Golan Heights, 
a continent away in a hot Israeli summer,
we look over at Syria from the top of Mount Bental.
“They have been at civil war since 2011,” says our guide.
“It happened to Egypt recently. It’s just how things are here.
At night, you can hear explosions.”

On the top of the mountain, it’s loud.
A group of IDF soldiers take photos.
Ukranians pose with over-large signs, 
“This way Jerusalem,” “That way Damascus.”
Smiling tourists, bright lips,
teeth all picked out by sunlight.


* Since attending Clarion UCSD in 2011, Gillian Daniels' poetry has appeared in Apex Magazine, Strange Horizons, and Lady Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet, among others. You can find her at http://www.gilliandaniels.com and https://twitter.com/gilldaniels


A Neatly Folded Napkin
by Liu Chengyu

In my basement, there is
an obsidian box in the trash can
never opened, never taken out.

Today, I look through the keyhole. There is
a neatly folded napkin inside it, gracefully sitting,
glossy black, quiet. I feel the blue fragrance
and sound of drifting leaves, wood pieces,
floating petals on a waterfall, so far away
devil-may-care.

“Take me to Miss Tanpatsuke.” it requests.
“A polite girl with bright eyes, scarlet irises
and long black hair to her waist.”

With its magical oath
the Snow Land melts, the Water Land dries,
the Sunny Land covered, the Rainy Land embraces
sunshine again, and we finally stand

in front of a deserted palace,
where a Medusa is strangled by red elf vines.
Her lichen-covered mailbox says
“Miss Tanpatsuko.”

“This is not her home...” the napkin sighs.
I think for a while and take out my marker,
change the 'o' to 'e'
“No, this is.” I open the gate and walk in.

“You should come with me,
a girl's name will not be forgotten,
neither is a neatly folded napkin.”


* Liu Chengyu came from China six years ago and is currently living in San Diego. He says he loves poetry and doing research on biomolecules.