The Drowned Forest

Blackness pours from the gunwhales and portholes,

Surrounding the voyager.

Ropes of ghostly moonlight coil spiralling to the watery landscape beneath.

As a seabed, the coniferous forest floor emerges from the darkest depths.

Wreckage: bowline branches which floated above the surface,

Lay twisted, bent, broken.

Bleached by the phases of the moon, the bones contort,

Loom large in the gloom.

They will never be mainmasts, lost like empty binnacles.




4 thoughts on “The Drowned Forest

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s