By H. E. Remus A short poem about writing indoors.
By H. E. Remus I can’t think about this. I remind myself, while I lie there in my bed with my eyes turned up through the porthole to space. I am safe on a space station. I reassure myself. I am safe in a place with oxygen. I breathe in, and out, full breaths. There … [Read more…]
By H. E. Remus I know I am spoiled, but I can’t help thinking how much faster the line could be if people would move and make a decision about their stupid morning coffee. I remember how long the lines were on Earth… You’d need a full 45 minutes just to get up there and get a coffee, … [Read more…]
By H.E. Remus “Mom?” I call throughout the house. She doesn’t answer the usual, “I’m home!” I call out when I return from my best friend’s house in the evening. Over the water, the sun is setting, and I knew she would be cooking up dinner. That is, she usually is cooking up dinner around this time. I … [Read more…]
By H. E. Remus I close my eyes and I let the venom burn through my veins. The viper’s juice is soaking into my skin. The little yellow drop of rejuvenation filters through the open wound and rips through my bloodstream. Pain dips into my psyche and into my blood, burning on the surface … [Read more…]