soliton

 

It hardly caused a ripple -
just a lift, a single pulsing throb,
then it was gone -
was it even there?

But its roots run deep -
purposeful, relentless, it advances
past the silver flashes, blackened fissures,
tugging through the weed that drags and tangles,
tearing at its liquid deepening anger -
rigid, undeflected.

Now it comes, arising
monstrous like leviathan, distending -
scatter, if you can!
Rearing up, it claws the sky,
overtops and spills and crashes, fills the choking world -
there is no more sun.

 

(© 1996-2008 Maria L. Grist)

---

back

the other space | the white feather | poems | lomography | lighthouse | web design | links | contact