I draw up your name, I see your profile: seventeen years old, destined for the Conservatorio. I shift my oraculo’s eye and look into your present, your past, the starlight threads of all your possible futures. Dancing ancient Balanchine in the Glass Cathedrals with white roses at your feet; bargaining down the price of nephila silk in the Buyin Merchants Association. Suddenly, inexplicably, there are infant spiders in your brown-black hair.
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Elaine Cuyegkeng's "These Constellations Will Be Yours."
I gave it all up freely for the brush of his wing.