01 May 2011

Down Periscope

The fog weighs so heavy
Like a bad dessert.
Mirrors don’t reflect
The greasy murk.
Light doesn’t penetrate the layers.

Moving through the cold water,
The turbulent sky,
Quicksand,
Is all the same
When wide eyes
Startle through the scope
And see nothing.

Every turn of the key is new.
Every throttle
Speeds to a veiled palace
Or a hidden trap door.

Anticipation is no use.
Burn the map.
Kill the navigator
Down the periscope.


Last day of NaPoWriMo (even though this post is in May). I wanted to write a poem about a periscope. I intended it to be more visual, a trip through the angled mirrors in a tube. But, that didn't happen. Posted at Writer's Island.

6 comments:

  1. Your initial simile is brilliant. I love this piece, whether it went where you intended, or not!
    ~Brenda

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  2. Thanks, Brenda. I don't know if my poems ever go exactly where I intend.

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  3. Fog like a bad dessert, I can already taste it. The ending made me sad.

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  4. Oh, Deep, I guess I was going for tragedy without sorrow. But if it made you taste and feel something, I'm pretty happy.
    Thanks.

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  5. love the 'heavy fog' & the in-penetrability of it -- wide-eyes startle at nothing, --- lovely!

    And thank you for reminding me about my 'abandoned' poems -- which is many of them during my um... extended NaPoWriMo...

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