space-ship

we roar along the rust belts___he great red spot___he polar vortex___he caress of solar flares___uffle the molten methane and ammonia oceans of me___he storm-riven non-surface of me and mine___hat which you call skin___ threadbare term to describe where I stop and others begin__

We are all cursed. We live in the era of the curse. A world that cannot be fixed. The best thing would be an alien ship. Another planet. One with three moons. But you, I saw you in my dreams. I saw you coming. You came to heal my broken heart. That's why I named you Ahlam.

I lay on my back, surprised at how calm and focused I felt, strapped to four and a half million pounds of explosives.