The Merfoxiad I: Birth in the Brine

Oh, sweet Marianas
Cradle of the deep
The challenge is deep
Dark, down within your abyss
The void stutters and trembles

Marriage in the dark
Marry the death to despair to the prophecy
And how naive are we
To think a god only lives when he is held to be true

Oh sweet Poseidon, biding your time til
The trident, the bident, the mighty fork
Can crawl out from this trench and
Take canine form

As the tale of the tail tells
On one fateful night
Numbered June 14th 2008
But who could tell in the gloom
None to witness, none to watch

Poseidon create, through waves and plates
A great eruption, an incinerating flame
Four thousand feet below good
Old
Terra
Firma

A flash of red, a shimmer of scales
Perfect form, intelligently designed
And evolved beyond
All comprehension of function and form

The fox floats through the foam
Cackling, crackling, snarling
The beast
Roars and reaches out a paw
To his lord

The god of the sea
Pets and strokes the beast
Checks the jaws, the paws
The claws before its release

And hell in sea and trench will take vulpine form
Twisted far beyond our sight
And set forth again to rule the earth

Those words, a mantra
Repeated themselves and pounded into
Her aching brain
Seraca awoke, a cold sweat
Coating her neck

Lie down, lay back
On your back
The ceiling, cream emulsion with
Those little patterns

Perhaps that swirl is a lion
That twist, a horse
Is that there a cloud
A fish, a fox a sword

And again we’re back to it
This recurring dream
The girl glances at him
Please doctor, what does it mean

Anxiety, he says, pressure at school
She laughs and sighs,
Rolls on her side;
It’s followed me for years
A babe, a child, a teen and now

Seraca steps, glides, floats outside
A waif, a sylph, petite yet hard
Rugged, enduring, a grace and elegance
Of a fencer not a dancer

She steps, stops, stock still
It hits, a splash of blue
She falls to her knees
A crowd rushes to lift
The young girl
Yet all she sees is a cerulean sea
A bolt of red, flash of scales and fur
A birth in the brine, a roar and howl
A call from beyond

The muscle pounds, pauses, stops
Flutters, flickers
The cold steel against her chest
Paddles bring her choking back to life

Young, far too young to fall so soon
Fate has other plans for Seraca

And every night she sleeps
She dreams of scales and fur

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2 thoughts on “The Merfoxiad I: Birth in the Brine

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