May 20, 2026

The Citadel shouldn’t exist

not morally, but physically

towers upon towers of structures in space
constantly needing rebuilding and maintenance
just the right distance from the biggest wormhole in the galaxy
that somehow makes its orbit stable
[for now]

it’s been around for a thousand years now
and some towers have more modern technology
than others, and still others have weird amalgamations
of the old and the new,
and even more feel like they’re still standing
still resistant to the vacuum of space
through a hope and a prayer
and maybe some sort of space magic
we don’t yet understand

but The Citadel still stands

and it really shouldn’t, if you think about it

but no one thinks about it too long

because once you do, you wonder if it should exist at all

and once you wonder, you wonder if you made it all up

and it actually doesn’t

March 21, 2026

there is a blue lagoon offset from the sea
that calls to me
that calls to my ancestry

but we gave up fins and tails
and gills and frills
long ago
so very long ago

so i dip my two separate legs inside
and lean my bony back beside
and look at the storm clouds racing
and i think about the oceans rising and rising
and whether i can take back a deal made centuries ago

was my great great great great great great great grandmother a fool
or did she know something then
i can’t possibly know
now
[just as now i am so highly aware
of things she’d never even dream of]

but all i can do
until i meet someone who
can exchange this blessing-turned-curse
is sit and lie and dip and swim and wish
beside this blue lagoon
separate but still somehow part of the ocean

[how can i bring myself back to that part of me
or will i always remain so
separately]

March 8, 2026

the rapture didn’t come like how we’d been taught

we thought
standing around
perhaps asleep
perhaps in prayer
we’d
just be levitated from our bodies
up
and up
and up to heaven
instantaneous
immediate
immaculate

but the rapture took so damn long

trekking from old homes to new ones
each more dilapidated
less clean
than the last

there was very little sleep
and even less prayer
towards the end
crossing borders
swept into vans
when least expected
[i suppose at least that one
was instantaneous
and immediate]
[but the insides of those vans
could hardly be called
immaculate]

and now here i am
being told that this final step
is the real rapture

but haven’t i been told that
for each step of the way

i’m starting to stray from my faith

and this tiny cup of gross-smelling liquid
barely coated by some sickly sweet scent
over top of it…
i thought the rapture was something that would happen to me
but it looks like i happen to it
i control it
but maybe
just maybe
i’m sick of all this rapturing

maybe i wanna try my luck, after all this time, with the heathens