My Cardboard Balcony

We're All Headed by Belinda Roddie We're all headed to worlds that do not want us, that do not welcome us to their banks, their continents, where all their species haunt the lands and stalk the grasses. All our thanks for escaping apocalypse go dry, like rivers in the heat, and we are left to wander on planets both young as I or far older, their ashen shores bereft of creatures such as us. The galaxies we flee to are not built for all our sins, nor for our history, which slowly bleeds into the water, making peaceful prince into tyrant, or love into a blade - we're headed to worlds where we should not stay.

Come with me to the waterhole, and watch me take a dive into the deep blue abyss. I'll let you know if I see any fish or shiny stones or dead bodies decomposing against jagged banks. I'll reemerge and find you sitting on the shore of pebbles, counting each tiny shard in your palms. You don't know how to swim, but you sure love to watch a swimmer, especially one like me.