WW Fiction?

 

 

This world — we came hete i” vitro —
Cold and dry as a coelacanth fossil,
Yet red with blood’s pigment.

To force these deserts to flower
— to make this man our mother.

We search for the fossils
Yeti tracks on Olympus snows —

Proof that this man was once a mother —

Could life be brought back én vitro ?
We paint this world with other pigments —

Dig up cliffsides to plant foreign flowers.
Talk on the net to our abandoned mothers.
So many of us could only conceive in vitro,
Others leave behind space-suit fossils.

So cold my hand, trying to mother
Germ-plasm of fauna and flora in vitro.

 

In this land of winter we search for ice and snow

Of those we would supplant; maybe a trace of pigment,

Something that might be the ancestor of a flower —

Blacken with mine-dust the crystalline snow.

Making Yadars A Womenm

By Sajia Kabir

Radiation wilted the first surface flowers.

This is not a safe world for children; still mothers
Sing of hope from outposts 7 vitro.

Hope that finds order in fossils,

A hope of order in mingled and separated pigments,
A hope as bright as the fading snow.

I have looked for a way for this soil to feed mothers,
For our lives to emerge from in vitro.

To shatter without shame the dust of fossils,

Prism rust into a million variable pigments.

To bring out edelweiss from beneath the virgin snow —
Touch carelessly that second flower.

The heat of our reactors melts the salt-white snow,
Yet not enough heat to open wide these flowers —

Wonder if our grandchildren’s grandchildren will make fossil
Imprints on a landscape where we’ve muddied up the pigments.

 

Last Call

Amanda Aikman, OP Columnist

 

“Td rather be working for a paycheck than waiting to win the lottery.” That’s from the
Bright Eyes song, “First Day of My Life.” It’s a clever yet simple metaphor for the reality
of long-term relationships. Apparently, troubled troubadour Conor Oberst is trying to
demonstrate that while real love is real work, it beats waiting around for the proverbial and
elusive Prince(ss) Charming,

I’ve been thinking about this quote a lot lately, probably because I recently got mar-
ried. After two-and-a-half years of living in sin (which I highly recommend—that sin is
good stuff), my boyfriend and I officially “made it legal” on April 29.

I think the reason I’ve had this particular Bright Eyes’ lyric on my mind since then isn’t
just because I’m no longer preoccupied with thoughts of dress alterations and RSVPs, nor

is it because I had nothing better to do than lounge on the beach and contemplate Emo
songs during my honeymoon. No, I think the reason is because, unlike the unfortunate
character in the song, I didn’t have to settle for “working for a paycheck.” And I’m begin-
ning to realize how truly fortunate that makes me. It might have been a long and sucky
wait, but winning the lottery was absolutely worth it. True, a moody 37-year-old Irishman
with a penchant for beer and David Lynch movies might not be everyone’s idea of a jack-
pot, but it works for me.

I had never been a “marriage” person growing up, I didn’t dream about what kind of
dress I’d wear or flip through catalogues looking for the ultimate china pattern. I was
always of the “TI-don’t-need-no-stinking-paper-to-validate-my-commitment” camp. I
thought weddings were a silly and unnecessary waste of time and money. But all that
changed when he popped the question. The question being, “Do you want to go to
Mexico for the honeymoon?” Man, what an awesome vacation, it was the greatest week of
my life. And okay, yeah, the wedding was lovely, too.

Although it seemed like we were planning and waiting for it forever, the actual day was
a whirlwind blur that I would hardly be able to recall if I didn’t have it all on video. The
karaoke footage alone will provide me with enough blackmail material to accommodate a
very early retirement.

The one thing that surprised me the most about getting married was how it ended up
feeling like so much more than just a formality. True, we didn’t need the certificate to vali-
date our commitment, but when the commissioner pronounced us husband and wife it
really did feel like it meant something. And any excuse to have all of our favourite people
in one room, even when they are singing really long Guns N’ Roses songs, is always a
pleasure.

So, by all means, take Conor’s advice and keep punching that relationship clock, but
promise me you won’t panic and settle for less-than-perfect just because you’re worried
that your numbers will never hit. "Cuz when they do, the payout is huge. And tax-free in
Canada. Okay, I’m not sure what that last bit means, perhaps I should leave the love/lot-
tery metaphors to the rock bands and get back to living my life of married bliss.