One Fathom Under.

“Secret tests,” was your whisper

of the submarine halved in the harbour.

Unable to contribute anything further, beyond

eyebrow and frown and ear, I encouraged

lightly-rolled papers and palm-flattened papers

of star maps and numbers to appear. Sailors,

once one fathom under, hum, one octave over

an ancient incantation, through the iron and water:

Summoned; rise up and disappear.

 

 

(photo: nick reeves – south shields pier)

 

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