Size / / /

All this time I loved you and never guessed.

I didn't know about luyebread, winter cladophylls, water's

refusal to freeze. Restfulness. I've acquiesced.

I didn't know I loved the sound of dehiscing flodders.

I didn't know about luyebread, winter cladophylls, water's

smooth coolness in the oven summers' throat unbeaten,

I didn't know I loved the sound of dehiscing flodders.

Didn't know about spotberry tea never before drunk unsweetened,

its smooth coolness in the oven summers' throat unbeaten,

pulling prickles out of tambalan and sucking them nectar-clean.

Didn't know about spotberry tea never before drunk unsweetened,

sol juleps, fried jambwort, the ubiquity of mycopeen,

pulling prickles out of tambalan and sucking them nectar-clean,

the way plumigan flock to the mowthorn at suggestions of snow.

Sol juleps, fried jambwort, even the ubiquity of mycopeen.

The new-fallen way the hacahuistes glow.

The way plumigan flock to the mowthorn at suggestions of snow,

this refusal to freeze. Restfulness. I've acquiesced

to the new-fallen way the hacahuistes glow.

Andromeda, I loved you all along and never guessed.




Joanne Merriam is the publisher at Upper Rubber Boot Books. She is a new American living in Nashville, having immigrated from Nova Scotia. She most recently edited Broad Knowledge: 35 Women Up To No Good, and her own poetry has appeared in dozens of places including Asimov's, The Fiddlehead, Grain, and previously in Strange Horizons.
Current Issue
10 Nov 2025

We deposit the hip shards in the tin can my mother reserves for these incidents. It is a recycled red bean paste can. If you lean in and sniff, you can still smell the red bean paste. There is a larger tomato sauce can for larger bones. That can has been around longer and the tomato sauce smell has washed out. I have considered buying my mother a special bone bag, a medical-grade one lined with regrowth powder to speed up the regeneration process, but I know it would likely sit, unused, in the bottom drawer of her nightstand where she keeps all the gifts she receives and promptly forgets.
A cat prancing across the solar system / re-arranging
I reach out and feel the matte plastic clasp. I unlatch it, push open the lid and sit up, looking around.
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Podcast read by: Arden Fitzroy
In this episode of the Strange Horizons Fiction podcast, Podcast Editor Michael Ireland presents B Pladek's 'The Spindle of Necessity' read by Arden Fitzroy.
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