Last Log of the Twilight Grace

Last Log of the Twilight Grace

By Stephen B. Bagley

We drift now in the blank space,
the black between the stars,
Engines torn away by an errant
cosmic string or some such particle
unexpected and unknown.

Most crew died then. The captain
fled to his quarters with a knife.
The engineer marshals our power
keeping life support a few more days.
Gives him something to do.

No rescue possible. No engines, no
highspace communications. No one knows
where we are. In this vastness, another
ship lighting on this point
of nothing beggars imagination.

I wander the arboretum ring. Alone now
except for the green plants whose
names I never learned. I touch their
leaves. I pluck their blooms. I
water the rows. They won't survive us.

Listen, this is the last log
of warpship Twilight Grace.
Listen ... listen to me ...
at times ... footsteps ...
footsteps echo in the metal corridors;
but no one answers when I call ...

No one.

Copyright 2012 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. No copying without express prior permission. Thank you for reading.

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