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We write each other memos
From our separate eschatons:
Flood to fire, loss to drought,
Cancerous overgrowth to slow crumbling.
We reach our disparate endings
At a dash, staggered starts, no podium.
We send reassurance: the wolf
Has not yet eaten the sun here—
There is time, though maybe not much,
To blow a different horn, burn a different bridge,
Reach a different Ragnarok. If not together,
At least allied. At least connected.

[Editor’s Note: Publication of this poem was made possible by a gift from Melody Hawkins during our annual Kickstarter.]

Marissa Lingen writes fiction, poetry, and essays. She lives in Minnesota atop some of the oldest bedrock in North America.
Current Issue
25 Sep 2023

People who live in glass houses are surrounded by dirt birds
After a century, the first colony / of bluebirds flew out of my mouth.
Over and over the virulent water / beat my flame down to ash
In this episode of  Critical Friends , the Strange Horizons SFF criticism podcast, Aisha and Dan talk to critic and poet Catherine Rockwood about how reviewing and criticism feed into creative practice. Also, pirates.
Writing authentic stories may require you to make the same sacrifice. This is not a question of whether or not you are ready to write indigenous literature, but whether you are willing to do so. Whatever your decision, continue to be kind to indigenous writers. Do not ask us why we are not famous or complain about why we are not getting support for our work. There can only be one answer to that: people are too busy to care. At least you care, and that should be enough to keep my culture alive.
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