Sonneteer's note: this is the latest installment of an on-going sonnet serial, Pepito Mojito: The Interstellar Feller. New readers can get up to speed by clicking on the "Interstellar Feller" tag below to bring up all installments. Start at the bottom and read your way up to today's...
Blood wells up from the gash created when
Pepito sought to meld him with the ship.
In zero gee, these crimson globules, ten
Or twelve of them float free; no one will slip
In Pepi's gore. He grits his teeth, goes deep
Into his flesh; wires grate against his bones,
But nothing happens; nary sounds a beep
Nor glows a light. A wordless curse he groans,
Then reaches for Yectara, jams her arm
Into a nearby socket, twists it, and
The panel lights up. Pepi means them harm,
Those aliens below, or else her hand
Would not be jammed against a trigger! She
Cries out "What are you doing? Let them be!"
Friday, August 6, 2010
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