Voyager
IV
by Becky Rankin
Explosion
a tearing thunder
that rocks the soul to its foundations
a scream wings, shrieking, through the airless void.
Ten billion miles away,
white-walled in and blinded by the murky stratosphere
she hears it nonetheless and knows
she reaches for the wall
as the world goes black.
a tearing thunder
that rocks the soul to its foundations
a scream wings, shrieking, through the airless void.
Ten billion miles away,
white-walled in and blinded by the murky stratosphere
she hears it nonetheless and knows
she reaches for the wall
as the world goes black.
Spinning
in mindless chaos,
the starship drifts,
bearing beyond the reach of knowledge
secrets now forever kept
priceless banalities that made up their lives,
all so suddenly sealed.
Amid
the twisted wreckage of enterprise
he lies
his heart beats twice,
slowly,
stops
but half her heart goes on beating
against the floor
as murmurs rise from those gathered, concerned,
pressed all together around her
in the small cubicle
and one kneels to find a pulse.
