Size / / /

One day soon

all our lives will resemble what we see in magazines

You will meet her

in a flat above a Paris street

at a table in a Moroccan tea room

lounging beside an inground pool perched

to overlook the electric horizon

of L.A.'s rug of lights

Rug of zebra print

leopard spots

bear head

unfurled beneath her

razor-fresh calves

ruby painted toes

The kind of woman so striking

she alters a room

projects a mood

Containing

not so much beauty

as presence

Imagine if she had command of a bridge

her influence flowing out over the city

Such a woman wants freedom of movement

clothes to house the people she entrances

to fill the skyline of the city she chooses

Daywear

Perhaps this is her best face

somewhat sporty

as penetrating

as expansive

as the sun’s warmth and light

Possess her

buy her vellum shoes

her paper blouse

and printed cardigan sweater

steal her onion skin

decoupage it over your own

Buy a ticket to Italy, Belgium, Dhubai

hunt down her haunts

insert yourself there

as a bookmark between pages

Here

On page 26 you will find

exactly how your life and hair should be

Just stay away from the flame


Elizabeth Lee has a dangerous addiction to catalogs—intervention may be required. She lives outside of New York City, collaging words together at a snail’s pace. Her poems have appeared in The Harrow, Illumen, and Aoife’s Kiss. Forthcoming work will appear this Fall in Paper Crow and Goblin Fruit. Elizabeth can be reached by email at: bethkai@gmail.com



Elizabeth Lee
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
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