Friday, 10 June 2011

Burial (the masterful reworking of Pelagic Pallor)

Heavy as mucus, we congregate
In a place devised for misery;

Our collective grief, an incubus, a salty, nocturnal burden,

But somewhere, within this weighty pall

Lays a dank and screaming void.

The cortege arrives, all mirrored steel and gravity

Its bulk reflecting the metallic millstone we all bear.

The hush;

 The slow motion, submarine approach

To a recent accident.

Doors open to the last journey through daylight, pushing through the stagnation.

They come.

Land locked in a cloying silence,

Whilst we ponder,

That out of the casement we swim,

until boxed up again,

 They submerge us.

Strangled and swamped.

We watch the breakwater close over you

Decisive and heavy as the tide.


Shoals of us sit

Weeping like wounds, gouged out like limpets

In our subterranean, salty fog.

We should be

Kicking for the surface

But most of us

Linger, float

And sink

Like the shipwrecked crew we are.

© Holly Boyden 2011


Dedicated to Gordon Wainwright

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