Author Archives: Theodora Goss

Someday, Lilacs Will Bloom on Your Grave by Theodora Goss If you have never been beautiful, you will become beautiful. Have you ever seen the long, lean elegance of bone? All that is unclean about you, the degenerate flesh that … Continue reading →

Lilacs by Theodora Goss I have come this morning to bring you some news: the lilacs are blooming. When you walk along the street, you can smell them — their fragrance floats in the air like a scarf around the … Continue reading →

The Gentleman by Theodora Goss Has the milk gone sour this morning? Are there tracks upon the floor where you could have sworn you swept carefully the night before? Are the window shutters open? Did the clock forget to chime? … Continue reading →

The Morning After by Theodora Goss Even on the morning after a great tragedy, the world is still beautiful. Should it be? I don’t know. Perhaps after the slaughter, after the bodies lying in a field, the houses burning, clouds … Continue reading →

My Pajamas Have Pockets by Theodora Goss Today I discovered, to my surprise, that my pajamas have pockets. Tonight when I fall asleep and walk along the shores of that sea filled with stars like fish, or fish like stars, … Continue reading →

The Ogress Queen by Theodora Goss I can smell him: little Helios. He smells of cinnamon and sugar. I can smell him even though he is down in the garden, playing with a ball and his dog, whom he calls … Continue reading →

Fairy Tale by Theodora Goss You ask where you will find her. Beside the singing fountains, where orange trees are blossoming and perfuming the air; where night is like an orchard, with orange blossoms shining, and the spirit of the … Continue reading →