qarrtsiluni

Diving into the deepest part and
even looking at it on a map.
Its dark blue stillness commands a
respect. Like a Dietrich or a
Marlow.

It lures you by its
perhaps danger, you take a swallow
loud like thunder.
A universe, not littered by stars,
smooth, clean.

Its amethystine reaches call—
soundless echoes, vibrations
no lungs can make.

This must be the distant song
of sirens shielded by its opaque depth.
Tristful moans that lure me
out of bed some nights.

Whales on a beach

so appear tramontane
and epic—
no longer royal—but
deflated blue-grey sacks on colorless sand,
that our hands fast push back
towards the deeper part—those ultramarine pools—

They prepare a faint.

by e. moya

Download the MP3

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