A Zone Observance – a poem

Counters click clack louder, beeps come closer

Together as we study the reports arriving

From so very close, so nearby, still too far

For us to consider reachable, distance

A term fluid, flowing…to reach is



Reflex draws back that gloved hand as high

Rises the counter whine, noisome indicator

Warning of psychic fumes ephemeral rising

From that river oxygen rich red, which runs

Through the Zone, mere kilometres away;

Ineffably dangerous.


Event horizon and flashpoint heatwave babble,

Memory of a concatenation caught in a monolithic trap

To unknown ends reaching; the rivers ran

Redder than blood can allow, an oily pall

Settling like ultramundane impossibility;

So we stay behind

And study.



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