And We’ll All Float On

by Sara Roncero-Menendez

And We’ll All Float On

There was so much left to learn.

Standing on the bridge of the ship,
A Class-A Tactical cruiser,
Floating in the vacuum,
She laughs.
For so long, she had thought of this ever-expanding galactic silence
As peace,
As refuge.
Today, she hears it for what it is:
A graveyard.

The knelling of the church bell:
“Life support systems critical.”
She laughs.
Everyone is already dead.
Petty officers follow commands,
So when the captain handed her a knife,
She fell in step,
And he fell at her feet.

This was supposed to be the beginning
Of a long and storied career.
Everything the TV shows had promised:
A lifetime of adventure,
A disappointing retirement,
Hotly contested memoirs and hard liquor by the fire.

“Life support offline.”
She laughs.

It is just her and the void of space,
Pinpricks of light
She will never get to see up close.
And she laughs.
There is no more oxygen,
Her lungs strain with effort,
But she laughs anyways.
It’s so damn funny.

There was so much left to learn.
And yet, curiosity killed the CAT.

About the author

Sara Roncero-Menendez (she/her) is a writer based in Queens, NY, and has published stories, poems, and essays in several outlets, including Sad Girl Review, and miniskirt magazine, as well as a poetry chapbook, Graveyard Heart.

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