RIPLEY
I know your name, after we’ve met
two dozen times. Memory resurfaces
ripping open your chest, the monster
suffocates you, a silent sarcastic stalker
bleeding acid, precise and poisonous,
snaps and spits. You take the plunge
through fire, fury and fear, footsteps
quietly committed, torch in hand.
Longing to share your grit, detecting
what’s coming, unwilling to surrender,
fighting the pain searing, sneering, nearing,
aiming for the final blow. Whatever else
I do when nightmares turn to reality
is futile. Be it lucid and vindictive, or
be fictional, with characters courageous
yet cynical, challenging but cathartic?
Foolish, I confess, my stasis prolongs
as you awake from dreamless furnace.
(Image: “Celebrating the Monstrous-Feminine: The Legacy of Alien“, 14 East Magazine)
Voices under the Sun 陽光下的聲音 