The Drowned Room

In the mariners’ church,

those dredged from the sea

laid out like fresh catch.

 

Identified by candlelight,

dried foam at their mouth,

the sea changed them.

 

Carried to the limits of water,

the waves rescinded their promise,

leaving them white as whalebone.

 

Lastly seeing

the ultramarine world

they occupied completely;

 

their ship impossibly stalled overhead,

skulking like some legendary creature

in the reachless dropdown light.

 

Below, the bones,

wrack and sump

of those never recovered;

 

while the fortunate ones

lay patiently in the drowned room,

waiting to be given back their names.

John Paul Davies

John Paul Davies is a member of the Poised Pen writers (thepoisedpen.co.uk). Originally from Liverpool, UK, he now lives in Navan, Ireland. His work has been published in The Fog Horn, Rosebud, The Pedestal, Grasslimb, Pseudopod, Ares Magazine, Killing The Angel, and is forthcoming from Sci-Fest LA and Footnote. A poem of his is displayed in the finest pub in Liverpool, The Ship & Mitre.

Contributions by John Paul Davies