The water makes vessels
of once great buildings
filling them with rolling gray
that laps and caps against
the foundation walls.
And now I know my fear –
it is the secret of that writhing
grayness – what lies beneath
to swallow a soul, a body.
It is not a real thing I fear
but the idea of what could be.
A mythical Krakin of my mind’s making
laying just under the corrugated crests
known to have slain the tired, the weak.
Better to stay at water’s edge
than challenge this colossus
becoming fodder for the deep.
August 2006 – 2017
WandeRoseD 