Size / / /

We were sneezing on haystacks
dry air dusty and spinning with flies
Little Jack was peeling maybugs
like wild kumquats while we lay
intoxicated and warm with our tedium
organic chaise longue under a brushfire sky
stark in a pale field of corn needles.

"We should go," he said
as the dog ran in circles
stirring up his wish mists.

Little Jack sucked his fingers free
of sticky beetle juice.

A while longer resting
fingers now tracing the curves of double-scored
tracks between hunched barns,
counting crows and listening
to cricket whispers in the bone grass.

In the slow creep of delirium
Johnny and Hoagy threatened
to loudly ruin our soft dehydration.
Everything prickled and the dog
draped his tongue, heavy on the side
of his yellow tooth mouth.

Dry summer bad habit
sleeping in the sun
dream shimmer angels
dancing in chalk veils

"We could die if we stay here."

We beat a hasty gingham
blanket, picnic box retreat.

And later
in star syrup darkness
Ra demands
the feverish offering
of our cold water
sacrifices.

 

Copyright © 2002 Lucy A. E. Ward

Reader Comments


Lucy A.E. Ward resides in The Netherlands. Her work has appeared (or is forthcoming) in many publications, including Dreams & Nightmares, Flesh & Blood, Black October, Star*Line, and Elysian Fiction. She is a regular book reviewer for SFCrowsnest.com and the itinerant mistress of her own Web site, Little Behemoth's Corner. Her previous publications in Strange Horizons can be found in our Archive.



Bio to come.
Current Issue
20 Jan 2025

Strange Horizons
Surveillance technology looms large in our lives, sold to us as tools for safety, justice, and convenience. Yet the reality is far more sinister.
Vans and campers, sizeable mobile cabins and some that were barely more than tents. Each one a home, a storefront, and a statement of identity, from the colorful translucent windows and domes that harvested sunlight to the stickers and graffiti that attested to places travelled.
“Don’t ask me how, but I found out this big account on queer Threads is some kind of super Watcher.” Charlii spins her laptop around so the others can see. “They call them Keepers, and they watch the people that the state’s apparatus has tagged as terrorists. Not just the ones the FBI created. The big fish. And people like us, I guess.”
It's 9 a.m., she still hasn't eaten her portion of tofu eggs with seaweed, and Amaia wants the day to be over.
Nadjea always knew her last night in the Clave would get wild: they’re the only sector of the city where drink and drug and dance are unrestricted, and since one of the main Clavist tenets is the pursuit of corporeal joy in all its forms, they’ve more or less refined partying to an art.
surviving / while black / is our superpower / we lift broken down / cars / over our heads / and that’s just a tuesday
After a few deft movements, she tossed the cube back to James, perfectly solved. “We’re going to break into the Seattle Police Department’s database. And you’re going to help me do it.”
there are things that are toxic to a bo(d)y
By: Michelle Kulwicki
Podcast read by: Emmie Christie
  In this episode of the Strange Horizons Fiction podcast, Michael Ireland presents Michelle Kulwicki's 'Bee Season' read by Emmie Christie Subscribe to the Strange Horizons podcast on ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Spotify.
Wednesday: Motheater by Linda H. Codega 
Friday: Revising Reality: How Sequels, Remakes, Retcons, and Rejects Explain The World by Chris Gavaler and Nat Goldberg 
Issue 13 Jan 2025
Issue 6 Jan 2025
By: Samantha Murray
Podcast read by: Jenna Hanchey
Issue 23 Dec 2024
Issue 16 Dec 2024
Issue 9 Dec 2024
Issue 2 Dec 2024
By: E.M. Linden
Podcast read by: Jenna Hanchey
Issue 25 Nov 2024
Issue 18 Nov 2024
By: Susannah Rand
Podcast read by: Claire McNerney
Issue 11 Nov 2024
Issue 4 Nov 2024
Load More