Size / / /

I've been reading Einstein's theory,

and this is what I've learned:

You can go this evening.

Put on your fine travel clothes,

jacket, bag, hat.

At the terminal, you can

buy a ticket for a ship,

a bright silver fish of a ship.

The attendant will bring you

a pillow for the trip.

She will smile, even if you are not

nervous, and remind you

this is no maiden voyage.

Take a nap during the long burn

through the atmosphere and after that,

past dying red giants and lonely moons,

your ship swimming in pools

of antimatter and that haunting

spherical music.

There will be no in-flight movies

and no conversation

with the other passengers,

who are all on their own journeys,

separate from you.

You will wear your watch backwards,

the time against your pulse,

polished back outwards, to catch

the reflections of planets like marbles

fading into the black.

Every instant of color is

connected by a million miles

of empty. The pilot will tell you

he can always see the next beacon.

The attendant has learned

not to look out windows.

You will have all the time you want,

until you are rested

or too tired to continue,

then you will turn back, not homeward,

but in the direction of Earth.

Landfall will be gentle.

The pilot will remind you that

your identification has expired,

as surely as the people

in your wallet photographs.

Everything you carry and you,

yourself, will be of great interest

and value in a brave new world.

The attendant will offer you

your bag—"Do you still want this?"

I don't know how you will answer.

Cassie Beasley is studying creative writing at Georgia Southern University. Her poetry has appeared in Clapboard House. She lives in the woods with her family, four dogs, and many shelves of books.
Current Issue
6 Feb 2023

Beatriz Nogueira is fifteen years old when her life ends.
A thought for wishes 
how humble it becomes after beliefs on it / burn up
The Thing (1982) as Silent Film 
Your quivering, alien shift from human to halfling to not-quite,   a carrion flower never in bloom, but burst.
Monday: In The Serpent's Wake by Rachel Hartman 
Wednesday: The Monstrous Dreams of Mr. Providence by Daria Schmitt 
Friday: Mundanity by Jonathan Carreau 
Issue 30 Jan 2023
By: Catherine Rockwood
By: Romie Stott
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Podcast read by: Catherine Rockwood
Podcast read by: Romie Stott
Podcast read by: Maureen Kincaid Speller
Issue 23 Jan 2023
Issue 16 Jan 2023
Issue 9 Jan 2023
Strange Horizons
2 Jan 2023
Welcome, fellow walkers of the jianghu.
Issue 2 Jan 2023
Strange Horizons
Issue 19 Dec 2022
Issue 12 Dec 2022
Issue 5 Dec 2022
Issue 28 Nov 2022
By: RiverFlow
Translated by: Emily Jin
Load More
%d bloggers like this: