Seven hours ago I walked with you in the moonlight. We dallied until only a handful of stars were left: the last vestiges of night. Now the sky is pink and waiting; morning holds its breath. Seven hours is not enough to make up for all the lost years.
My mother doesn’t believe me. How I see you at night in that instant before my eyes adjust to the dark. I didn’t open the window. I didn’t move that chair. “Don’t leave me,” I had begged, graveside. It is just like you, you bastard, to listen this time.
All the stars that crowd the ether— Unremarkable, compliant— Travel routes which are reliant On the plan prescribed by nature. Men’s desires have deceived her As she dwindles, meek and pliant, Though I bid her stay defiant. Once the pivot passed beneath her Never could she make a detour.
The shore is packed with people: young, old, native-born and off-planet transplants, human and non. The din ought to be overwhelming, but I stand in a small oasis of stillness, imposed by my nearly-invisible security personnel or possibly by my own Name. My Family is respected here. It was not originally a custom on Vinde, … Continue reading Festival
They call me ugly because I am different. They call me dangerous because I am wise. You begged me for fire. How could I refuse, you with your mother’s blessing and a woman’s smile? I gave what I could. I would have loved you, my beauty, had you stayed.