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You come to me with your hands full of severed hearts,
heels tapping the white linoleum floor,
and lay them on the counter, wipe your fingers on your dress:
so many hearts I can't tell which are yours
and which you've only borrowed. I thank you anyway,
drop them in the blender, mix, open the chute
once used for laundry, pour them in. Below
we hear the slow sound of large things rising, chains
skimming concrete, low breath, lapping tongues.
You listen. You watch the chute drip red.




Zella Christensen is mostly from Wisconsin and studied creative writing at George Mason University. Her poetry has appeared in Star*LineMirror Dance, and elsewhere. She lives online at zellawrites.com.
Current Issue
18 Nov 2024

Your distress signals are understood
Somehow we’re now Harold Lloyd/Jackie Chan, letting go of the minute hand
It was always a beautiful day on April 22, 1952.
By: Susannah Rand
Podcast read by: Claire McNerney
In this episode of the Strange Horizons Fiction podcast, Michael Ireland presents Little Lila by Susannah Rand, read by Claire McNerney. Subscribe to the Strange Horizons podcast: Spotify
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