The surface of the sea

Chipped into hollows by the wind

Waves whitecaps back at me.

I am fixed ashore, pinned

To a static spot to watch the dance

Of liquid edges roiled in ecstasy

At the caress of the air to glance

On surface sensitivity, emoting fantasy.


Below this infinite quadrille,

Untouched by playful atmosphere,

A steady blue-green note does fill

The drowned eye and the ear

With the silent sound of the deeps

Wherein shadowed predators

In lazy body twists and snakey leaps

Exert the rights of conquerors.


Shoals of shining scales flash in this night,

Coordinate in disciplined precision.

Edge on dim, then suddenly all bright,

In single mind decision.


More alien than something from the stars,

A nest of tentacles makes its way on bottom sand

To touch and test all fissures. Nothing mars

Its intensive curiosity, the tentacle more agile than the hand.


Shell arthropods on needle legs with pincer tips

Troop in pizzicato caravans,

Antennae waving gaily in swoops and dips,

Surveyed from above by hungry clans.


Outside the traveled paths

Beneath the gloom of submerged cliffs

Far in time and space from human wraths

A pirate skull stares at underwater riffs

Which play and replay quantum terrors.

Doubloons in dotted lines scribble on the sand

Tales of violence and greedy errors.

Now lies in peace beyond desire and demand.





One thought on “Below

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