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Up polished steps
of Cheop's walls
the scorpions crawl,
speaking prophecies
in spider tongues.
The certainty
of yet another war
has brought us here.
We seal the chamber.
It's consensual,
our voluntary burial.
Each bringing
something precious
from this world
with us to the next.
Mine is a photograph:
a child torched with napalm
running naked toward
the camera, her screams
frozen in a single frame.
By Munch's hand
or a lens in '72,
that unceasing wail
out of nothing
from nowhere.
While packing for
our sudden evacuation,
you ask, "Why this?
It's just a photograph."
You take the Torah
and a bag of other texts.
More sensible selections
for the world to come.
If some future
generation finds us
I trust they'll see
I came willingly
on this mission.
And if generations
succeed our passing,
will future archeologists
find significance
in the strewing
of our bones?
On rough stone steps
of Cheop's walls,
the scorpions crawl,
speaking prophecies
in spider tongues.
Marge Simon is the author of three collections of poetry, Eonian Variations (Dark Regions Press, 1995), Artist of Antithesis (Miniature Sun Press 2003) and, in collaboration with her husband, Bruce Boston, Night Smoke (Miniature Sun Press, 2002), which is currently under consideration for a Bram Stoker Award. Her solo work and collaborations with Bruce Boston have appeared or are forthcoming in various publications, including Strange Horizons, Dark Regions, Talebones, Dreams & Nightmares, Star*Line, and Dark Illuminati. In addition, she is an award-winning illustrator and former president of the SF Poetry Association. She will be listed in the 2003 Marquis Who's Who. She lives and works in Florida.
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