Tonight's Poet Corner: My Empire
My Empire by Belinda Roddie I wash my hair with golden linens before rising from the basin of the sun. My servants await me; they have dragged my silver oxen across my fields, and are now laden with the literal fruits of their labor. People once said that a post-scarcity world was impossible, but I have remolded the earth to serve me with its spoils. I wade in wine and swallow chocolate by the spoonful. The meats and cheeses laid before me are only shared with a portrait of my beautiful wife. This was how I made my empire: When the apocalypse subsided, I scraped away the radioactive ash and found fresh soil that I and those few survivors tended to. Trees grew again. The air grew colder. We felt strong breaths return to our aching diaphragms. One by one, the last remnants of humanity died but me. I was not human anymore. Not with this mutated body and soul. I have crafted my attendants out of clay and stone. For heartless golems, they take orders while still ...