In the North Atlantic
The North Pacific, Indian
and Arctic oceans they slowly,
Sadly pass their eyes along the darkest
Spaces in the galaxy. They stretch their
wings to catch the prayers of children
frightened to return to school,
irrespective of time and place,
For placeless, timeless they sacrifice
themselves upon the waters,
and frightened thoughts travel
fast and unimpeded to the
Gods, who lonely sing their sacred harmonies,
groan in turn, crying C O O R D I N A T E S
to other gods on other waters, some blind,
Some seeing light now through yolk
and amnion—they ascend to meet
the celestial task:
imprisonment to the ocean,
endless grave of angels.
Thanks for checking out my poem.
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