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[Biosensors enabled:

eye detected in the lightbulb hanging from the ceiling of this interrogation room,

ears detected behind the framed art and photographs on the walls.

Also detected: throats choking with conclusions, asking all the questions

that lead to a broken wall in town with the graffiti of a man with a noose

for a necktie]

In my defence, humanity. in my defence, a glitch. in defence
of all the birds that come to me for the miracle of breaking
my hands into breadcrumbs, and spreading them at the yard. in my defence,
an angle in this cctv footage, i’m mary poppins sneaking back to be mary poppins
one last time every time, an endless trail of seeds behind. in my defence…

the simpsons predicted this half a century prior. they never said
the consequence belongs on me this heavy—deservedly. in my defence, that.

In my defence, it’s unfair you want to justify a larger font for murder to overwrite
true service. in my defence, groundbreaking cure for cancer, thanks
to [insert my manufacturing code]. in my defence, beside this pile
of stones, he that is sinless among you. in my defence, unavoidably triggered
by a racial slur. in my defence, blame my emotion regulator. in my defence...

Blessed be to the tenderness in you, giving in to mercy as my guilt is
to just another episode of things that never happened.

In my defence, let your poisoned dart miss the chink in my armor, only if it’s
not the earliest stage of a black hole: a mouth that will go back to eating
what it should number among the living. in my defence, juggling biological and
artificial, i tripped over my shoelace, and spilled my lungs empty
of the innocence that was, before guilt. in my defence

the holographic sketch of my niece’s dream
prom dress is incomplete.

In my defence,
dreams.

This dream and its defiance
to death, not punishable by death.



Martins Deep (he/him) is a poet of Urhobo heritage, a photographer, and a digital artist. He is a graduate of Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria. His works have been published or are forthcoming in Magma Poetry, Strange Horizons, Fiyah, Lolwe, 20:35 Africa, Augur Magazine, Tahoma Literary Review, and elsewhere. He says hi @martinsdeep1.
Current Issue
14 Apr 2025

back-legg-ed, puppy shaped and squirmy
the pastor is a woman / with small birds living in the hollows of her eyes.
Strange Horizons
On June 4th, we will be opening for speculative fiction novelette submissions between the word count of 10,000 and 18,000 words. We will cap submissions at 300.
Strange Horizons
On November 3rd, we will be opening for speculative fiction stories written by Indigenous authors. We will be capping submissions at 500.
The formula for how to end the world got published the same day I married the girl who used to bully me in middle school. We found out about it the morning after, on the first day of our honeymoon in Cozumel. I got out of the shower in our small bungalow and Minju was sitting in bed, staring at her laptop.
In this episode of Strange Horizons at 25, editor Kat Kourbeti talks to Charlie Jane Anders about her Strange Horizons publications dating all the way back to 2002, charting her journey as a writer and her experience with the magazine over 20 years, as well as her love for community events and bringing people together.
Issue 7 Apr 2025
By: Lowry Poletti
Podcast read by: Emmie Christie
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Issue 10 Mar 2025
By: Holli Mintzer
Podcast read by: Emmie Christie
Issue 3 Mar 2025
Issue 24 Feb 2025
Issue 17 Feb 2025
Issue 10 Feb 2025
By: Alexandra Munck
Podcast read by: Claire McNerney
Issue 27 Jan 2025
By: River
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