Freezer Burn

Consider the eccentric, wealthy few
who cheat death,
who feign immortality
in pools of liquid nitrogen.

What of their souls, imprisoned
in polished chrome sarcophagi,
unable to rise to an afterlife
beyond a world spun out from beneath them?

What of memories? 
Does the delicate electrochemical balance
persist in a cold brain
devoid of voltage?

Perhaps, when thawed
from a dreamless sleep,
they'll find their memories erased,
their hearts wiped clean.

I hope the power doesn't fail
before someone finds their cure --
better to find a naturally cold place
with no need of power to keep them under.

We could stash their cannisters
in the dark cold of outer space,
though a few might float off,
their contents frozen forever.

Imagine a soul, adrift for a billion years,
stretching out four lazy limbs
when his ice-bound coffin
chances on the fire of an alien star.

Each degree would feel better than the last,
restoring life by taking it,
searing the soul of flesh and bone,
of freezer burn.

Scott Speck
07/19/2002