abyssal zone

i.

they do not know us,
those spiny wet creatures in the deep.

they feed low
and they glow.

they are shards, slices
of gill or fin;
they dangle pretty baubles,
luminous lures drifting
on cold currents.

ii.

the ocean is an unusual prism:
instead of diffracting
light frequencies,
it subtracts them as it deepens.

red is the first to go,
disappears below shallows.
orange, yellow, then green follow,
vanishing in turn,
washed out by fathoms.

four hundred feet down,
only violet-blue
water in neon.

at eight hundred feet,
purest ink of blue
that transforms
all objects and beings
into itself.

then the abyss.

iii.

the sunless waterscape
holds a firmament of alien planets
that glide uncharted, timeless,
in the black.

here, bioluminescence
is language, currency —
a way to eat
and a way not to be eaten

or a call, or response
or simple expression of “i”

a wad of light expelled to distract;

an attractive, irresistible orb
beckoning toward scimitar teeth;

a blast of vivid blue cloud
(untranslatable)

swimming, swishing
meandering patternless
at the bottom of the prism

iv.

black has many shades,
carries much.

if you dip your fingers
into deepest marine,
many mean things
will bump against them.

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© 2023 amber nesza