A Pre-pelagic Tragedy

this is the season of remembering.

this is the season of deluge and mildew

of dead-white pruned fingertips and

lost power fueling days’ worth of

power naps.

this is the season of mud and mold

of water-stained porcelain and

foul sluggish blood

and stories left untold

of matches with no flame and

tarnish with no gold.

this is the season of past lives

of perpetual lessons from

pedantic old gods who mete out

beheadings and divine floods

with all the flair of a spanking

from on high

who when they try to innovate

succeed only in teaching the birds

how to fly.

this is the season of diving deep

to escape or is it to return

to draw maps of undiscovered

unremembered seascapes

to relearn how to see in

a light so dim.

this is the season when they

threaten to drown us

and the gods shall become those

who know how to swim.

–k.b. 05232017

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