Size / / /

Content warning:



The plumber says well it can’t
be a wolf that I hear howling at night,
we don’t get wolves around here.

Around here, we don’t get wolves
slinking past our windowpanes or leaving
pawprints in the mud by the front gate.

In the mud by the front gate, pawprints
tracked a path to the welcome mat
this morning. Like a fool I swept them away.

I swept them away this morning, like a fool
believing my word would be enough
for the plumber fixing my pipes.

Fixing my pipes, for the plumber,
is a simple thing. He whistles gently as I tell him
about the yellow eyes I saw last night.

The yellow eyes I saw last night, about
the same shape as his, but larger, shine brighter as
the moon leans in close to laugh at me.

To laugh at me the moon leans in close
and trails its fingers down my spine.
I twitch and spill my coffee a second time.

A second time, I twitch and spill my coffee
on the plumber’s boots. He smiles.
The dark seeps in faster underneath the lights.

Underneath the lights, the dark seeps in faster,
howling at night. Can it be a wolf that I hear?
Well, it can’t, the plumber says.



Kaily Dorfman was born and raised in Santa Cruz, California. She has an MA in English literature from UC Santa Barbara, and a BA in the same field from UC Berkeley. Currently, she is an MFA candidate in poetry at UC Irvine.
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
Wednesday: Overlap: The Lives of a Former Time Jumper by N. Joseph Glass 
Issue 11 Mar 2024
Issue 4 Mar 2024
Issue 26 Feb 2024
Issue 19 Feb 2024
Issue 12 Feb 2024
Issue 5 Feb 2024
Issue 29 Jan 2024
Issue 15 Jan 2024
Issue 8 Jan 2024
Issue 1 Jan 2024
Load More
%d bloggers like this: