Size / / /

Content warning:


Please follow the instructions for reading this poem:

1. Imagine a cage. Any cage, of any size.
2. Love the cage. The cage is your friend.
3. Think constantly about the cage when reading this poem.
4. Scroll down.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a hand reaching through bars from darkness

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5. Now try thinking about the asahdfvsrrvsdvub oadbfjsfnigvsbrv sdihbcsudhc
837410239568123984128381928301284239820
21124ugwoerijbgwietg
jwoah5h5tgpq803
iorpo9rewu0348
5180547190724
yruwhefioehwrcgnqy9g3481823
70584yhufeironfh

9uwαμβ£~€©μπ±®چĭWFVASRVΑΡΓςΑΣΦ
ςΣΑΩΙΣΡδΦςΩΡΝςΟΕΑΡδςΑΙΡω
ρνϖοσφβϖαρπωΕΟΥςΩΓΕΤΜΕ
Ο
ΥΤ!ΓΕΤΜΕΟΥΤ!

GET ME
OUT! GET
ME OUT!
WHY DID YOU TRAP ME HERE? GET ME OUT!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You cαught it.
Fιnαλλy.
Aλλ you needed to do
was to folloω the right instructions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A hand is holding marionette strings attached to the brain of a simplified human figure. The figure regards a list titled "Abstraction." Step 5 is scratched out.

Now, you are free.



Gabriel Ascencio is a Mexican student and writer. He mostly focuses on texts written in Spanish, which can be found at Colectivo Letras & Poesía under his former pseudonym "Dr. Asenjo," and at Revista Extrañas Noches and Letralia.
Current Issue
18 May 2026

Maybe we overestimated ourselves, I thought, watching the ferries hum against the wine-dark sea. Even if we floated above it, we were still bound to the ocean, engulfed in all its weight and inescapable history. To believe otherwise was a kind of hubris. But we had believed otherwise anyway, and so each of us had become something smaller, less human, suspended in a brittle net of want and memory. And then she appeared. At the wrong time, in the wrong place. My Scylla, my monstress, my deathless siren of anglerfish light. Longing, in that empty, unmoving ocean, for things that had not existed for centuries. How could anyone blame her? The only alternative was to grieve. 
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Strange Horizons
2 Mar 2026
Strange Horizons invites non-fiction submissions for our March 30 special issue on “Fungi in SFF.”
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