City of Hemisphere Lights

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Nine Guardians watch over our city
in the darkest hours they light
there is the hemisphere shield over our tallest
no glass ceiling for us!

Precipitation does not touch us,
from above always day and light
From below we fear the water,
seeping in through manhole pores

There are no birds in our city to sing
no insects to pollinate our fruits
we have mechanical lettuce for supper,
and apples from the aluminium tree

The sun that gives us daylight shines
only from the west,
in the east live all the monsters
that can thrive in the dark

Some day the guardian lights will go out
We will learn to live in the dark,
growing white phosphorescent skin cells,
and eyeless faces.

Albino witches, all of us,
sharing a single mech eyeball
passing it around like an appetizer
Everyone partakes only a little.

Seeing only once in nine rotations,
eating only once in seven,
absorbing the water through the souls of our feet
growing extra sensory longarms

Climbing out of the Guardians's city
through the light circuits in the shield sky
We will become like electrons,
flying together in clusters, molecular hydro

the city of hemisphere lights will become
a wasteland of night shadows,
pulling at pieces of each other to eat
and climbing up to the dead light sockets

Like eyes with no life giving energy
stuck forever open,
the shadow monsters will follow us out
through them

releasing their bodies
molecules of light all of us now, together
onward we will float, gravitating towards a distant
body, reaching out, sharing the light.

Where did our light come from?
Where will it go?
Together the nine guardians will encompass us
from the sky lights in the hemisphere city.

Writing by Regina Stemberger

Photo "White City Invasion" by Or Hiltch

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