Size / / /

Carefully, I stitch together
bone and sinew, muscle
and nerve. Cover with skin.

Gentle electrical stimulation—
more of a massage, really,
galvanic impulses
dialed down.

My predecessors,
being men,
were far too rough.

What is called for here
is patience and pain
on the part
of the scientist.

What they didn’t understand,
what they could never have understood,
being barren,

is that this road requires a toll, a tip
to the ferryman.

No life is created in a vacuum.
Re: Thermodynamics, First Law:

The energy must come
from somewhere.

Publication of this poem was made possible by a donation from Rachael Acks. (Thanks, Rachael!) To find out more about our funding model, or donate to the magazine, see the Support Us page.



Lynette Mejía writes science fiction, fantasy, and horror prose and poetry from the middle of a deep, dark forest in the wilds of southern Louisiana. Her work has appeared in Daily Science Fiction, Nature: Futures, and others, and has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, the Rhysling Award, and the Million Writers Award. You can find her online at www.lynettemejia.com.
Current Issue
21 Apr 2025

tomorrow when i have hardened, and your body has renewed.
A recent wave of research into the quantum properties of emotion suggests that love may be more than a fleeting human experience
Every spring, the new year came down from the mountains to eat the old one.
Friday: This Cursed House by Del Sandeen 
Issue 14 Apr 2025
Strange Horizons
Strange Horizons
Issue 7 Apr 2025
By: Lowry Poletti
Podcast read by: Emmie Christie
Issue 31 Mar 2025
Issue 24 Mar 2025
Issue 17 Mar 2025
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
Load More