Size / / /

f(love) = 0

The function of love is undefined.

f(love) = 0

impossible, infinitely uncertain result:

if circumstances were different

what would be the second spatial coordinate

that is a function of love?

but the function is fixed:

circumstances define

the hand that draws the line

Forward, backward, what will make it work?

f'(love) = 0

the quality of a nonexistent

is less than zero

what is the slope, the rise and run

of the function that dooms me?

this love has no degree

no rate of movement

by the definition of love,

undefined in an impossible f'(x).

∫f'(love)dlove = 0

area under an impossible function

if time could flow backwards,

what would be the length, depth, and height

of the product of our love?

but the product is nonexistent:

an area of undefined space,

like a black hole

Forward, backward, what will make it work?

dlove = ln love

I have never been good at math,

but here is a loophole:

how could I have missed Newton's trick

to finding area where none used to exist?

Love is like an alchemist's salamander,

fireproof, slippery, fluid in the darkness;

but wearing a coat of improbable logs

I can capture fire.




Monica Eiland lives in the Boston area with her husband and two sons. She has a PhD in neuroscience from UCLA. A medical writer by trade, she has published short fiction in Forbidden Lines and Shimmer and is a graduate of Viable Paradise Year 10.
Current Issue
22 Apr 2024

We’d been on holiday at the Shoon Sea only three days when the incident occurred. Dr. Gar had been staying there a few months for medical research and had urged me and my friend Shooshooey to visit.
...
Tu enfiles longuement la chemise des murs,/ tout comme d’autres le font avec la chemise de la mort.
The little monster was not born like a human child, yelling with cold and terror as he left his mother’s womb. He had come to life little by little, on the high, three-legged bench. When his eyes had opened, they met the eyes of the broad-shouldered sculptor, watching them tenderly.
Le petit monstre n’était pas né comme un enfant des hommes, criant de froid et de terreur au sortir du ventre maternel. Il avait pris vie peu à peu, sur la haute selle à trois pieds, et quand ses yeux s’étaient ouverts, ils avaient rencontré ceux du sculpteur aux larges épaules, qui le regardaient tendrement.
We're delighted to welcome Nat Paterson to the blog, to tell us more about his translation of Léopold Chauveau's story 'The Little Monster'/ 'Le Petit Monstre', which appears in our April 2024 issue.
For a long time now you’ve put on the shirt of the walls,/just as others might put on a shroud.
Issue 15 Apr 2024
By: Ana Hurtado
Art by: delila
Issue 8 Apr 2024
Issue 1 Apr 2024
Issue 25 Mar 2024
By: Sammy Lê
Art by: Kim Hu
Issue 18 Mar 2024
Strange Horizons
Issue 11 Mar 2024
Issue 4 Mar 2024
Issue 26 Feb 2024
Issue 19 Feb 2024
Issue 12 Feb 2024
Load More
%d bloggers like this: