The world ends in fire and all remaining Immortals
drift out from the wreckage, like a Saturday on a lazy river.
“Ride it, like a wave. Like you have an epic hangover,”
says Kali to a stunned coyote that drifts past
as the universe bounces us back out again.
We all cross paths, sometimes—
each shouting a message—
and listen sharp to every glorious hint of sound.
“Patience was wasted on the mortals,”
says Cerberus—I think it was him,
and Venus sang a pretty song.
Some of us problem solve the next part—
find each other again,
wrecks and other junk from—
Time is just there, sometimes,
a stink you can’t get out of.
“Why did Death get so thin?”
I ask one of the sun gods whose name I can’t remember—
they all look the same to me.
We stand on the beach and watch as everyone arrives—
only it’s more a cliff overlooking nothing at all.
Stars and clouds of new matter lap at our ankles and swirl past.
He nods his heads and pretends to hear me over the sound,
which is not sound so much as—
There’s always an adjustment period.
I decide to find Venus.
She didn’t look half bad, considering,
and there’s a certain joy to be had by forgetting.
* * * * *
Marcella Hammer is a writer and an entrepreneur. She lives in San Francisco and enjoys mountain biking, running and good German beer. Follow her on Twitter @marhammer. Her other contributions to Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.