Gerard Coley


11: 02 Pm

Caves of night, when the grinning past could not guess
At what lay curled up like a piece of paper,
Deep in the mildew stardust that lined the pocket
Of the future: not the ring but the hole inside it.
He spoke the name, green words clanging on his lips,
Murky fish sank from his grasp like submarines;
Blue and orange flames rose from the ocean bed,
Flickering like portals, into a nether realm of night.

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