I step toward the heart and it pace quicken, like it could sense that it close to home. I stare at the beating mass, full of memories, and realise somebody would have to cut it up in bite-size pieces and force it down my throat.
children get bigger when it rains
the time is stuck and the magazines are covered in colors
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Ciro Faienza presents the poetry of the 7 February issue.
