Long Winters in the Sun

Years. Then. Over came suddenly. Broken robots. And lost molecules. On their path. Stuck in short stories. And mine much too long. I outlived them. And then there was nothing. No one to blame. Nobody to ask for directions. Just somewhere I had never been. And no reason to go home.

The scales in her eyes always weighing. The cadavers. As she played with the dead. The rope skipping. Eroding the earth as she jumped. Again and again. Over the shadows that would not relent.

Just uniforms she told him. As the future decided. The moment was insufficient. Fingers dug in to useless buttons. All our weapons gone.

Fighting was easy. The anger always made sense. It was surrender with which she struggled.

The long winters in between faces. Bitten apples souring in her fist. The shaky ladders below her window. Allowing those strangers entrance.

The grass turning brown under her feet. As she searched for the pavement. Every story telling itself. While she listened.

The winter inside her skin. The cracks beginning to show.