2026-07-08
The last work of Anastasia, poet and third daughter of an upper-class family, published the night of her disappearance from the Shining City, on the eve of her wedding that never was.
O Angel great and holy—
Speak not to me of love, my bride,
But of your kinfolk down below
Leviathan, beneath the tide!
If I go to my abyssal bier,
Frozen, dead, upon my knee,
With thousand suckers, spouts, and fins
Will she howl and wail a storm to sea:
An end—for you, of me?