The surface of the stagnant pool that stomached
him these ten thousand solar circuits past, guffawed
rank gas globes, jangled searing moon glares, gave
cold air a thin mist in exchange for
a litter of paper moths and brittle leaves.
The pockets of precious air picked from under
his algaed scales slipped through the wet grasp
of its black depths as it clung defiantly
to him, trying to deny his slow rising
into this, the bluest of blue full moons.
The surface of the stagnant waters that wombed
him these ten thousand solar circuits past, gave
August’s midnight murmur its single king’s ransom coin
in return for a spilt sackful of silver
sixpences. Blunt-toothed alders, thick as whispering thieves,
sipped black draughts through long straws, as the
sky slyly stole a minim of its surface
murk to darken a tempest’s fermenting cloud. Timid
washes lapped across its shallows as its waters
broke, crowning Morgwa the water monster’s heraldic head.