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Literature Text
in the coal-fired dusk the ocean
lies like silvered glass
the once-roaring tumult still
as a sleeping child
there are ghosts here; alien
creatures from another world
milky white discs tinted
with a pale blue
they glide through the sea
like down from a torn quilt
or a hundred lacy
dresses on a ballroom floor
soft silken saucers tumbling
through the cool water
so delicate a touch
might tear them apart
lies like silvered glass
the once-roaring tumult still
as a sleeping child
there are ghosts here; alien
creatures from another world
milky white discs tinted
with a pale blue
they glide through the sea
like down from a torn quilt
or a hundred lacy
dresses on a ballroom floor
soft silken saucers tumbling
through the cool water
so delicate a touch
might tear them apart
A poem I wrote last quarter for a creative writing class.
It's about Moon Jellies.
It's about Moon Jellies.
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