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Sport 40: 2012

Abyssal Plains

Abyssal Plains

Try this. The sea is not liquid. Fish climb it. Tiny animals swing
on tiny monkey bars. Or ride upon them upturned, grasping
whatever is available for a mast, clinging as drifting sailors cling
through nights of hideous stars. The ocean is never
the same twice. You don’t know if you’ll open the door
n yellow fish flicking past, or a swarm of jellyfish little
fisted stomachs pulsing, or something like snowfall because
you are directly under the carcass of a great whale whose debris will
on the sea floor change everything. Abundance. Tube worms
grow at astronomical rates. Small mountains form. Children are
     born seconds
after their grandparents. It’s not even the same water. Imagine
what it does to time if space is not a rock. Hold me. Something’s
     blooming.
The water is an unimaginable shade of turquoise and all about
grasping sailors forget their calf country, forget their wives.