Asimov's SF, September 2008 by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-07-10T14:01:06+00:00

* * *

Poetry: THE GHOSTS OF CHRONOPOLIS

by Bruce Boston

In Chronopolis,

city of changing light

upon the squares,

leaves are scattershot

in shifting patterns

across the pavements.

—

There are no clocks

for the ticking.

—

For each of us

home to this dimension

and its relative time,

the passage of hours

remains subjective,

honed or stretched from

one perception to the next.

—

Those who leave Chronopolis,

city of light and shadow

upon the pavements,

never return.

—

Except in the dreams

of those still created.

Except as sheer specters

haunting the rooms

of their ruined lives.

—

You can hear their

diminished apparitions

scrabbling through

the streets of Chronopolis,

city of stone and sand,

light and ablation.

—

You can sense their

ghostly shades falling

like desiccated leaves

across the spectrum

of the achromatic dusk

as it sheds illumination.

—

You can almost see them

in the dark, fading sparks

that could be no more

than the expiring rods

and cones of your vision.

—Bruce Boston

Copyright (c) 2008 Bruce Boston

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