i. Chance of rain, 100%
Here, where it rains, it has always rained; here
where it floods, it has always been flooding,
water seeps into earth and rock, fueling a dark
passage into wells that will never end. A message
from the future to the past: the sun will never be
seen again, the moon will still be silent, muted in
mad cycles of cloud; like stepping into swollen rivers
rising fast above us, fluid, life will never be the same.
ii. Chance of rain, 50%
Here where opposites meet in equal circumstance,
desires lurk on our foggy ceilings, submerged, while fate
shines bright on these clean-swept crystalline floors;
through thresholds and windows, gates and entries,
lie visions of an afterlife wrapped in afterimage; it is
all suspense in a single variation: a candle casts its
shapes across the walls with a flicker of life, a flicker
of death. Subtle, that. Life may never be the same.
iii. Chance of rain, 0%
Here, where it does not rain, it has never rained and
never will; here, where the dryness descends upon you
like hot anvils, the chalk of dust and bone coats your
lungs; eternal heat and light strike with the hammer of
thunder, telling us we have nothing without hope; and
the inner workings of rain, like your tiny, elaborate
hands, were never seen again. Dry vowels from your
lungs expire, rumble on, and life was never the same.
—
Ryu Ando lives and works in Los Angeles. His writing has appeared in a number of speculative fiction and poetry journals including Strange Horizons, Liquid Imagination, Unbroken, and many more. He is twice-nominated for the Rhysling and once for the Elgin awards for speculative poetry. He can be found online here: ryuando.wordpress.com/ and on Twitter @ryu_ando_98.
Photo by: Ana Prundaru