Flatlantis

I can’t believe it’s come to this like rats from a receding ship
a coiling roiling mass of black in the cold waters, clawing
searching seeking clinging climbing over anything
that might be salvation, revelation or perhaps
just another moment of peace to float among the flotsam
supported by the buoyancy of their unresponsive kin
held aloft by their final breaths yet to escape
their labored lungs, salt water stung eyes
no longer blind but neither able to see further
than another horizon, another setting sun
another spin around the edge of the sink.

Seawalls crumbling like sodden biscuits into the peppermint sea,
fragments of land swallowed whole in a pumice flow
floating stone reaching from one burning horizon to the other
lit with earthquake lanterns and electromagnets
spinning into a vortex, a descending funnel
from one Hell to another
the winds fling you forth
only to beckon home
when another system collapses
another reality overlaps with ours
leaving us with only one way out.

Down the drain down the storm water rain slaughter red water rapid ride
down the pipe with rusted sides down and ever further down
deeper than the graves wherein the gods were laid
darker than the caves to which this place gave it’s name
buried in your burrow and suffocating in shadows
the writing until the very edge
and finally colliding with the full stop
the rising salt of our poisoned land,
the last laugh and the bitter end.

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