An airy pair in wool waltz round a transparent pair in plasticpolymer, a threesome in cotton go through a foursome in silver. Round and through, ghostomen or foodmeat

or light or Light: dancers dancing. Is there music? What personbody moves what personbody’s personbody? Round and through, must feet write answers on the floor?

~

The people of the station leave. It’s Eynar and Margit’s turn to clean. They sweep and swillmop and cleanwipe out the Hall. And after, Eynar sits down.

“Did you see that?” She sits down. “Didn’t you?” And Eynar nods. “Do you think we’ll see it again?” he asks, like a child. “I won’t,” she says. “We might.”

Gunnie an Brenna imajin futures

Thir cooried in Gunnie’s reum

the eftirneun eftir the dance:

thir no left yet. A day

fer raxan, rowan an restan

the both o thir bodies. Her haand

in thir hair, thir heid on her chest,

Gunnie thinks on thir waants.

A piece wi thir mither, yass,

but a yole o thir awn wad be better.

Inga’s ower wabbit:

thir livveens tae be gotten,

wi a puckle o chaenges.

Brenna can hiv her races

tae Federal Tings, as lang’s

sheu taks back better daels;

fer aa her haivers sheu kens

gowd an refuses tae quyt.

Yaas, thir aye a wey.

Fer her pairt, Brenna is slippan

fae ae draem tae the tither,

fae crisis tae revolution.

In waarm wakkan, sheu

thinks on organisan

an reorganisan,

coories closser, fer in

this theoretiecal bed

thir futures tae be maed.

Gunnie and Brenna imagine futures

They’re snugglenestlehuddled in Gunnie’s room the afternoon after the dance: they haven’t left yet. A day

for stretchreachexpanding, rolling and resting both of their bodies. Her hand in their hair, their head on her chest,

Gunnie thinks about what they wantneed. A placedistancepartwhile with their mother, yes, but a boat of their own would be better.

Inga’s too tiredbroken: there are livings to be had, with a few changes.

Brenna can have her trips to the Federal Councils, as long as she brings back better deals;

for all her noisy nonsense she knows about money and refuses to quit. Yes, there’s always a way.

For her part, Brenna is slipping from one dream to the next, from crisis to revolution.

In warm waking, she thinks about organising and reorganising,

snugglenestlehuddles closer, because in this theoretical bed there are futures to be made.

Astrid, oot

A peedie beeteen’s needed

on a peedie module oot

the end o Aikeray:

a Papa, monietoran

micro-waith, the driv

o scows at murder-speeds

passan ivry oor.

Ithoot defense, the staetion

wad be wrackid in seconds.

Astrid needed oot

her heid, so teuk a wark

fae the Ting’s duty-boards.

The repair wis coman at.

Thay uissed this kinno wark

tae lairn bairns the staetion.

The wrench kens her haand.

Her haand kens the turn.

Aroon her is a murgis

o starns an instruments,