PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

". . . atque in perpetuum frater ave atque vale . . ."

---Catullus, 101

1

Enough time proved what elders prophesied
that we should not, and could not more, abide
upon this planet, burned and dessicated
(the remnants of life, here, harshly mutated;
vital processes warped and aberrated).
The half-life of the bomb's Ulterium
had been ineptly underestimated---
the largest of mankind's historic errors,
causing much death and suffering, much terrors.
The ship of our escape still stood, active and ready
to bring us on a journey, smooth and steady,
to a fresh, verdant world that could receive
us comfortably after we chose to leave
our broken habitat.  And, granted, some
are frightened and hysterical; all grieve
(a little bit, but others quite a lot).
We who were always few are now a group
so small that we long shared shelter together
beneath what little was left of the weather
that is, when any weather really bothers
to give us any sort of variation---
maybe even surprise, that rare sensation.
We are not hearty, like the Desert Fathers,
alive seven millenia ago.
Severer limitations now bestow
troubles that, in those ages, were unknown;
we face them weakly, but just as alone.
But we have gathered in the massive ship---
roomy, luxurious, and soon to slip
away to somewhere better.  With this hope,
all of us will thrive and adequately cope
with new change, and, perhaps, even chances
for happiness in better cirumstances.

2

In those lingering moments just before
boarding had finished and we shut the door,
my small chihuahua, Zellie, stepped back out
(and rest assured, she was not left behind;
oh, no, that would have shattered my poor mind).
We knew what her intentions were about
(just a few moments; then she came back in).
Watching her carefully, I had to grin---
she only wanted time to take a squat
and make her farewell gesture, a fresh poop.