(The picture is “COURSE” by Artur Golaski.)
It has been so long since we have seen the sun. The fish have made their nests on our skin while we carry our own young upon our back. What more is needed other than salt to preserve life? The city is dead and all we can do is look out the balcony and wait for our husbands.
The gardens are gone. Once upon a time we saw our husbands striding across our lawns towards our arms at dusk. We were dressed in all our finery, in gold and satin, our children in their best linen. The city had sunk at three o’clock in the afternoon. The water flooded our halls and chased the furniture out of our rooms. In an instant the salt had fallen upon us and in a hundred years we have become pillars, beautiful in our complexity. The colors grew from us and our former selves began peeling as we became brittle porcelain.
Do the cracks hide our emotions? Has humanity utterly abandoned us? Our faces are frozen, our histories sleeping for eternity in our little caves and pits. We are the remnants of our race, stilled by water. But life still grows around us and so the world changes and ages and changes again, while we look out the balcony and await our husbands’ return.