Size / / /

Just another couple come to neck,

to roll around and stain themselves

and leave some of their seed on me.

She just pretends I'm much too heavy

when I'm full. But when she's full

a greater weight will beat next to her heart.

She's fast enough uphill, although she laughs

more than she runs. You'd think the lug

would know by now what she has planned.

He reaches for me but she's faster.

(Easier?) We're out of reach.

She sets me down, my mouth wide open.

She pulls him down into my grass,

nearly as warm as the summer sun today.

He pumps, although they haven't reached the well.

She cries out when the sperm spans skins,

wet everywhere. I almost hope with her.

I hope this one is different than the others.

She takes his hand and takes the pail.

At well-side she leans in and points,

whispers, romance reflected in their eyes.

I am centrifugal, come out of his blind side,

hit him where he does not expect it.

I'd cry but I can only dent.

She drags his body down, away from town,

to bury with the others, flattened grass

running wrong way against my scalp.

I drink. She watches her own eyes,

whispers lullabies, and begs this one

to take root, not to wash away.

Mary Alexandra Agner writes of dead women, telescopes, and secrets. Her poetry, stories, and nonfiction have appeared in The Cascadia Subduction ZoneShenandoah, and Sky & Telescope, respectively. She can be found online at
Current Issue
10 Jan 2022

Angela says if I want to film the rituals, I cannot do so as an outsider or a guest. The rituals are private, she says, and a secret. That is the problem, I say, I want to film them because they are a secret.
Before she knew it, she was falling out of the sky like a waterfall and through a canopy of thick, wet leaves. Fell hard into the soil.
There is a djinn for everything: every act of forgetting, every act of remembering. Every act of oppression, every act of protest. Every act of civil resistance, every arrest, every injury, every death. There is a selfish djinn, and a selfless djinn. There is a djinn for beauty, a djinn for zakhm, a djinn for kindness, a djinn for empathy. A djinn for absence, a djinn for inaction; a djinn for climate, a djinn for crisis, a djinn for war, a djinn for peace. What are words but
Issue 3 Jan 2022
Strange Horizons
By: Antonio Funches
By: Lev Mirov
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 20 Dec 2021
By: Merie Kirby
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 13 Dec 2021
By: Freydís Moon
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 6 Dec 2021
By: C. S. E. Cooney
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Podcast read by: C. S. E. Cooney
Issue 29 Nov 2021
Issue 22 Nov 2021
Issue 15 Nov 2021
By: Madeline Grigg
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 8 Nov 2021
By: Allison Parrish
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 1 Nov 2021
By: Liam Corley
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Podcast read by: Liam Corley
Issue 25 Oct 2021
Strange Horizons
Load More
%d bloggers like this: