My Lilac Starship
My dear,
I’ve come back
from the planet of haste.
And, you know, that haste drinks everyone dry there,
leaving just skins rustling around
on two legs.
Time on that planet spins,
staying at the same place,
or imperceptibly going down,
like the seat of an adjustable piano stool.
There, work bites days and hours off your life,
eating the tastiest parts,
gnawing through your abdomen
eating its way in, deeper and deeper.
You know you are dying,
but never protest, keeping a straight face,
or even smiling,
like a Spartan boy who stole a fox
and hid it under his cloak
but kept silent and never showed pain
while the fox was chewing into his guts.
But my dear,
I’ve come back to you.
You’re sleeping, and the morning is tall and pointed
like windows of a gothic cathedral.
Don’t wake up, my love.
Here, the time stands almost still
and knowing that, I left my lilac starship in the orchard.
It’s slowly cooling down,
and cherries in bloom
drop petals on its armor,
which is still warm.
*
Sergey Gerasimov is a Ukraine-based writer. His stories and poems have appeared in Adbusters, Clarkesworld Magazine, Strange Horizons, J Journal, Triggerfish Critical Review, and everywhere. His last book is “Oasis” published by Gypsy Shadow.
