How Strange the Starship’s Shudder
by Michael R. Fosburg
How strange the starship’s shudder
that rattles fragile proteins
and trembling acids
like a shaman rolling bones
across the firmament
to scry a future
shifting like the waters
of a vanished world.
I fall through dreams
of earth and dappled shade,
palm stones still soft
from beds of mud and moss;
lost to distance
felt like terror in the blood.
Tomorrow has collapsed
like a dying star.
What worlds are these
that fill my heart
like smoke-wrapped offerings
and my eyes with tears?
No shade beneath
a thousand suns; no streams
but for the ice
of scowling comets
burning ever homeward.
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Michael R. Fosburg was hatched from a batch of pulsing purple goo; he coalesced into a book nerd with a passion for craft beer, music, reading, writing, and always learning. He spends his days wishing for autumn, and when autumn arrives, wishing it would never end. He lives in Florida with three cats, a dog, and a wonderful woman.
