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We announce the world first
existed in the form of a human body without
mouth or eyes / without limbs or lungs /
without glands or genitalia / without necessity
of food / without motion / without empathy
/ without virus or vaccine / poison or antidote
/ so we became the first virus / & we became
our own vaccine // We became open mouths
& closed eyes // We became legions of cold
compassion thrumming in a spacious forever /
/ flailing architects constructing intricately
engineered endings // Over & over // For
everyone / everything // More monstrous /
more energetic / more insensate / more
infernal // Bodies like sword-wielding
skeletons slashed apart then reforming again &
again until a fire-greased weapon unfurls them
for good / bodies like drainage canals / bodies
like drain cleaner / bodies like ant poison /
bodies like battleground states / bodies like
badlands / bodies like butterfly knives / bodies
like broken touchscreens / bodies like
breathtaking vistas of bodily hell / bodies like
empty penthouses / bodies like empty infinity
pools / bodies like empty stomachs / bodies
like empty eye sockets / bodies like empty food
courts / bodies like empty milk cartons /
bodies like empty playgrounds / bodies like
empty classrooms // Where you expect to find
ocean you only find whalefall / recycling /
crumbling forests of bleached coral // Where
you expect to find clarity & awe you find
cosmetic & pharmaceutical pollutants // You
can’t stop listening for sounds that will never
be made again / because the listening comforts
you / but the listening hurts & the comfort
hurts / grinding your teeth to the rhythm of
the dead refrigerator’s hum // Our sweat is cold
& culpable // We toss & turn & braid with the
sheets / put our ears to each other’s chests
expecting to hear heartbeats / instead finding
dial tones / yearning for blues & greens you’ve
never found in the flesh // So many bright
rooms with no people inside // So many tangles
of rain molding our homes from the inside //
So easy to hide the profane from the sacred /
to pretend the sirens surrounding us are
nothing more than silence // Your cadaver lies
supine in a tranquil field of lavender //



Adam Fell is the author of Catastrophizer, winner of the Sixth Finch 2022 Chapbook Contest, and two books of poetry: Dear Corporation, (Forklift Books, 2019) and I Am Not A Pioneer (2011). You can find out more at www.dearcorporation.com.
Current Issue
18 Mar 2024

Strange Horizons
We are very happy to welcome Dante Luiz as a new fiction editor on the team! Dante is a Ignyte Award winning author, and has been with Strange Horizons working as an Art Director for the past several years. We’re stoked to bring him on to the fiction side and have him bring his wonderful insight and skill to the fiction team.
Day in and day out, the rough waters of the Pacific slam themselves against the protrusion of sandstone the locals refer to as Morro Rock. White streaks of bird shit bleed down the rock, a testament to the rare birds of prey that nest in its pocked face overlooking the bay.
in my defence, juggling biological and artificial, i tripped over my shoelace, and spilled my lungs empty of the innocence that was, before guilt.
the birds, / who carry with them / the many names of the dead
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