Size / / /

They dive to the drowned city
Dive at Lauds and Vespers
Down to the lost cathedral
St. Florian of Inundations
St. Michael of the Depths
They come for the glossolalia
Of the tongueless bells

The peal divers trap
That mute polyphony
In the cage of their ribs
In the nacre of their hearts
And then ascend
To shouts and acclamations
And kneel, to let the golden ax
Split wide their chests
That the silent, holy song
May flood the land.




Francesca Forrest has lived near the coast of Dorset, England, and by a bamboo grove in Japan, but has spent the last ten years within walking distance of the Quabbin Reservoir, in Massachusetts. Her short stories and poems hide out in various corners of the Internet. For more about her and her work, see her LiveJournal.
Current Issue
6 Jan 2025

I am a dog in the shape of a person and I live in a lighthouse and fetch.
It looks like a tooth. It smells like a frog.
Imagine carrying around a snack that was your skin. Imagine the energy needed to molt from that skin and how tasty those leftovers would be.
By: Samantha Murray
Podcast read by: Jenna Hanchey
In this episode of the Strange Horizons Fiction podcast, Michael Ireland presents Samantha Murray's 'Coming Through in Waves' read by Jenna Hanchey.
Issue 23 Dec 2024
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Issue 2 Dec 2024
By: E.M. Linden
Podcast read by: Jenna Hanchey
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By: Susannah Rand
Podcast read by: Claire McNerney
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Issue 21 Oct 2024
By: KT Bryski
Podcast read by: Devin Martin
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