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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3872 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention The hunted Lisa Megraw Intro: We were never meant to think, to desire, to dream, to reject their god and their philosophies. I held him inside an ashen pocket of maple where sinter white and beautifully unhuman he died under the Utopian moon. This was in the beginning of the uprising when we all became the hunted. I I hear you in death, the wind has touched me with your breath/mine. We are the same blood now falling on ragged skin. Our longing has tied shot guns around my broken limbs, held me like a puppet against a red sun but in truth l have become a growth of holes and a lone Indian weary for home. II They took Annabel at the airlock, their dogs fell over us like a nest of bees. Palms, knees their bites littered flesh like petals as l dragged her corpse out into the empty dusk. Forced to flee and leave her unburied, l became haunted by the flowers l couldn’t shed. III We have learnt how it is to die in the throaty stomach of an alien desert wearing only the vestiges of desperate drapes over backs we fade in and out of the cadmium dusts. At night we lie under Musket trees watching the poison bloom of spitshine berries, blue like the stars we spoke about. Tonight l am watching them melt, drip back into black. I do not know whether it is the fear of drowning or silence that scares me most. IV We have been so hungry, so lost in red. Under my eyelids l feel it closing in, there is no definition, it is everything l feared. I am nursing Tiran because l am the only thing left. For days we have roamed and not seen any humans; today l would have gladly welcomed their steel kisses. Now, I am too tired to face you, to disappoint you with how weak l have become. I no longer believe in the ship, l have stopped watching the skies. I think that is why Tiran ate the berries. When he leaves l’ll go too, l cannot be alone. |
