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  • africmcglinchey

l’enfer c’est les bateaux (with apologies to Sartre)

Updated: Jan 1



(14)

Outside my window, a trawler

courses through the ocean,

too unconscionably near,

electronically pursuing the depths,

fraying invisible water.

Weeks now, traversing back and forth,

a giant bead across an almanac

until this radius of sea is rolling

over an immense emptiness,

the last dregs.

Electronically pursuing the depths,

fraying invisible water,

such movement thralls

all nearby living energy

with a glittering attraction

until this radius of sea is rolling

over an immense emptiness,

the last dregs

pulsing into the colossal trap

with belated, flapped-back gills.

Such movement thralls

all nearby living energy

with a glittering attraction.

And schools flow helplessly

towards this laundry bag

of death,

pulsing into the colossal trap

with belatedly flapped-back gills

to feed our vast

and meaningless greed.

And schools flow helplessly

towards this laundry bag

of death

that will continue

until it’s scraped the ocean clean

of fish

to feed our vast

and meaningless greed.

And seabirds sway on the surface,

picking up the bloodied scraps.

And it will continue,

until it’s scraped the ocean clean

of fish

for weeks, traversing back and forth,

a giant bead across an almanac,

grinding chains to haul up the catch,

encased, like meat in a sausage skin.

Outside my window, a trawler

courses through the ocean,

too unconscionably near.





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