The Isle of Echoes
#4 of Poetry
A sestina about a place between spaces. I tried to take an abstract feeling, make it concrete, and then abstract that concrete abstraction. This was the result
The Isle of Echoes
Dreaming Horizon
Eyes rolling in the sockets of the sky's skull
The shore shudders, name scrawled in blood
On the ocean, sapphire sepulchre
Where the whispers writhe between waking and
Sleeping
Catholicon for convulsions of demiurge's delirium,
Burning Horizon
The ocean, cool coat thrown over
The sky's chest, swelling and heaving
With whispers, these two words
To make the shore shake
The shore succumbs, becomes
A spiral tower pit
For whispers, sighing wheels
Turning horizon
Opening the sky's eyes
Flooded with ocean, turquoise tombstone
Whispers, sprouting fangs
Seeds sown in the ocean, cavernous craw
Screaming Horizon
The shore recoils
From the final wave,
Sinking into the sky's neck
Cracks in the sky's crown, whispers crashing ships
In the black light finally fades, the ocean, graveyard for gods
The shore inhales, breathing horizon