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when she speaks there are phrases missing
words strung up in incoherent pieces
memories juggling between myth and history

i once
was
a song.

her tongue tied, strangled consonants
whistled through the gap in her teeth
the clipped pages of a diary at her feet

my
dear
forgive me
we are lost.

her language is said to be imaginary
its lexicon like black and white photographs
imagined of spurious subjects

the wind
our wings
carried away.

no vowels to oil the sounds
she sputters constrained
her throat vibrating a cacophony

these lips
are
meant for verse.

then sing, I told her, sing
lay your letters along a lyre
confess your hymns in lyrics

aaaaaEEEjoooooolaiiiii

maaaaaaameeeYaaaaEEEeeee.

oh, but when she sings,

when
she
sings

i hear: take me, take me to the space between our breaths

oh, but how her eyes are closed so tightly,

the
tears
trembling

ruuuuuOOOOuuuuuuuaaaaAAuuuuuu
yeeeeeekAlallEEeeeeeeooooooyyy

i feel: i will be found, i will be free, i will rejoin

oh, but how her body sways,

her
arms
open, forgiving

i see: the orange typhoon of days, the blue-green of a winged peoples

oh, but the lilt in her voice

how
it
takes me away

xaaaaaaaaaaaAAAaaaaaooooyyyyy
YaaaaaaNayyEEeeeeeooooo

i am: the space in between breath, the sound of the hollow

i am…
free
so free
when she sings…



Zora Mai Quỳnh is a genderqueer Vietnamese writer whose short stories and essays can be found in The SEA Is Ours, Genius Loci: The Spirit of PlacePOC Destroy Science Fiction, and Luminescent Threads: Connections to Octavia Butler. This is her debut at Strange Horizons. Visit her: zmquynh.com. You may contact her at zmquynh.lyrics@gmail.com.
Current Issue
16 Dec 2024

Across the train tracks from BWI station, a portal shimmered in the shade of a patch of tall trees. From her seat on a northbound train taking on passengers, Dottie watched a woman slip a note out of her pocket, place it under a rock, strip off her work uniform, then walk naked, smiling, into the portal.
exposing to the bone just how different we are
a body protesting thinks itself as a door out of a darkroom, a bullet, too.
In this episode of SH@25, Editor Kat Kourbeti sits down with Vivian (Xiao Wen) Li to discuss her foray into poetry, screenwriting, music composition and more, and also presents a reading of her two poems published in 2022, 'Ave Maria' and 'The Mezzanine'.
Issue 9 Dec 2024
Issue 2 Dec 2024
By: E.M. Linden
Podcast read by: Jenna Hanchey
Issue 25 Nov 2024
Issue 18 Nov 2024
By: Susannah Rand
Podcast read by: Claire McNerney
Issue 11 Nov 2024
Issue 4 Nov 2024
Issue 28 Oct 2024
Issue 21 Oct 2024
By: KT Bryski
Podcast read by: Devin Martin
Issue 14 Oct 2024
Issue 7 Oct 2024
By: Christopher Blake
Podcast read by: Emmie Christie
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