I was there, an aqualunged conscript jimmying
through the blue-black abyssal, just one
in a queue, a dupe tossed overboard
one by another, to the
drenched cobalt in a boundless trench, a savage fissure
in the Arctic Furies. The ocean exsanguinous in
adamantine horror surrounds my protector,
my drifting monoquoc.
Yes, I was my vile flesh sinking, sinking
in the oleaginous clutch of gravity’s
grip, frigid, a grasp hostile to my
heart tight against her warm susurration.
A grasp of deceit, a clutch
of ambiguous stories floating in me like schools of
viridescent fish, stories with just the right lick
of imperious irony gnawing
these numb entrails, a scene so virulent
even Poseidon’s Trident offered no protection.
I swam with eyeless fish of luminous jade,
shimmering plankton drifting on brutal currents.
An ancient unicorn belly splayed, galloped in tightening circles
looping iron splinters ‘round my ruptured soul.
I rolled soundlessly with iridescent creatures immune
to the arrival of winter’s tenebrous silence, and me seeking desperately
their fraternity long secluded in unfeasible fissures.
I swam for those star fractured
gates, but gliding closed they rejected
my incipient derangement; turned it in on itself.
Is this the crimson region’s true madness: Onyx
loneliness drenched in Arctic satin?
It took years to swim against gravities imperative, claw
back to the heaving surface of that Cataleptic
Sea where combers stacked
gunmetal grey end
on end leaning high against the shattered
crystal of my will
But the ocean cold couldn’t calm the seductive
sway of a swivet-suckled mind. Can my scissoring legs
kick me free me from that siren song of satin’s onyx?
Will those gelid currents once again heave aloft that blue-black
menace to strap its undertow beneath my rising
archipelago of serrated sanity? Yes, that post-lucid search
beyond my crippled reach for everything, oh, god, yes, reach
for everything and
nothing at all.