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Strait

At night the Strait becomes a long winding python; a snake of mis-direction

Sliding & sneaking unobserved

Twisting & coiling around silhouettes of ghosts submerged in the wash

The surge is silent; deadly yet beautifully pure

Momentarily a dim reflection from the old bridge breaks the darkness

Stillness overwhelms the wind & rustle of the overhanging trees

Waves break upon the unseen rocks protruding like a serpent’s spine

A mystical energy orbits the expanse of black liquid; magical; Satanic

The atmosphere is alive with an evil tranquillity

There is passion riding the surface

A passionate love affair where love above is quickly seduced by the death below

So many skulls form the rivers floor like a pebbled path to Hell

They stare up mocking the serene moon that knows nothing of what lies within

The python never ends; filling the Strait with its bloated body

The snake smiles with its two faces

One for the love above

The other for the wreath beneath

 

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