My Cardboard Balcony

Tomorrow's Eclipse by Belinda Roddie Tomorrow's eclipse is brought to you by a celestial sponsor weaving gold and silver looms together, meshed satins and silks with melted ink across a sewn shawl. Like a cloak drawn across a brazen mantel that glitters beneath steely moths that spray aluminum in wispy foil to wrap up strands of sunlight in cold black. The telescope lies abandoned on my balcony where the salt lifts to kiss the cool folds of island winds fornicating with swollen, healthy heat with sweating lips. The lens is far too cracked to view this sweet phenomenon, so I drift off to sleep.

The most primitive form of technology in 2300 was the cellphone. I was amazed that people even still used it. We had grown accustomed to our cyberglasses, monocles, headgear, and earpieces. We drove cars and talked with them on a daily basis. But I saw a man with a cellphone, chatting to a friend. It was surreal.