The Abyss

Oh! The trickery of July's sunny brush-stroke waves

that dimple the surface
with incandescent light.

Bathers, gazing heavenward, mesmerized by Sky's offering-

blue and cotton-patched-

float on their backs, unaware of the gathering mass

below.

No forms to contain this deep-sea nether-cloud

that builds and billows from Ocean's bowels, stretching up its black fluid tendrils

to eel around

an ankle,

a wrist,

a neck,

to suck the innocents down,

the ones who stray too far,

ignoring their silent writhing

as it pulls them from their sunlit cobalt reverie into

black obsidian

nothingness.

This poem was written in response to April 3, 2010 RWP prompt: Scared Yet? suggesting a poem about something that really scares you. I chose my fear of deep water.