They could hear us...
through the near-vaccuum
between celestial bodies
seeping between milky ways
riding the dust tails of comets.
They could hear us...
trapped on our waterlogged
behemoth—soaked in acid
and ash—a breath between
hope and annihilation.
They could hear us...
tuning their audio array
to pick up our mega hurts
eavesdropping on final
phonic agony.
They could hear us…
our wordless requiem
an impermanent epigraph
scrolled across galaxies in
momentary flashes of nuclei.
The famous last words
of a people, a race, a species
no more than anonymous screams.
First appeared in Siren's Call eZine #45
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