Tuesday, 7 June 2011

Pelagic Pallor

Heavy as mucus, we congregate

In a place devised for sadness;

Our collective grief is an ache, a beautiful burden

But somewhere within this weighty pall

Is a dank and screaming void.

The roller arrives, all mirrored steel and gravity

Its bulk reflecting the metallic millstone we all bear.

The hush is aquatic; 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 an amphibious silence,

Whilst we ponder,

That out of the casement we swim, until

boxed up again, they submerge us.

All filter through.

Shoals of us sit

Weeping like wounds, gouged out like limpets

In our subterranean, salty fog.

We should be kicking for the surface

But many of us just want to sink,

Like the shipwrecked crew we are.

© Holly Boyden 2011

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