Size / / /

We only talk now on growing days—

Dad checks my span and shoots me up.

I burst from his embrace

spread new pinfeathers,

go leaping through the lab—

last night I hurdled nine cages of chimps.

He wants me to behave,

submit to another of his five zillion tests

but his moldy ideas are holding me up.

Stripping off my dress I run

naked as a jaybird, swift

as a falcon.

He can't cage me; I'm his little chickypoo.

Outside the lab there are boys, there are birds—

teary threats won't ground me

forever. I am clawed as an eagle

savage as a kite

and I will fly.




Tina Connolly (tinaconnolly@gmail.com) is a writer and face painter in Portland, Oregon. Her stories and poems have appeared here in Strange Horizons, as well as in Podcastle, GUD, and Beneath Ceaseless Skies. This story was inspired by an exercise at Ellen Klages' 2009 workshop at Hugo House in Seattle. Tina has a website at http://tinaconnolly.com.
Current Issue
30 Sep 2024

I did not hear the sky crack open
And she shows me her claws.
In colonial south India and in other parts of South Asia, then, there existed established theories of imagination and the mind as well as established literary traditions of fantasy that make the question of the known and unknown, the real and unreal, an impossible one.
This episode was frustrating and hilarious, just like so many things in life. What do the last two episodes have in store for us? Maybe something coherent happens in the story? Maybe an appearance by verbally abusive rocks? Plants that extensively quote things with no reliable source?
SH@25 is a new, year-long interview and feature series that will delve into the archives, celebrate the work of past contributors and staff, and highlight the contributions of Strange Horizons to SFF publishing and the wider community.
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