Poseidon’s Lament

By Tamsin Smith

cold obstinate vapor

take off that coat of armistice

you know of no more news

from nowhere 

no one would  kneel 

by such brooding

pools of blank self-countenance

clutching the belly of a ram

to sheer off how many

have been consumed

spelling sins of sentiment in ragged letters

— loyal oyster vesicant elegy —

at such cost

lay out vain embers

to trail fog-spent rescue

down twinned peaks

tracks where there is no third rail

and a hissing speaker indicates

you must collect your baggage

and begin the hard return

through the gloam

to abandoned avenues

where spindrift laughter 

claims an unlabeled valise 

as found

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