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5:33 pm Sunday, 18 March 2018
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Radio Silence ©

Nat Hall
Sandwick, Shetland

Sonar's broken, my submarine
tarnished with hurt didn't
survive the speed and stealth, water
pressure, urge in its dive,
death in bubbles.

I think I've reached a new
abyss - can't see the truth in
this ocean outside rivets,
titanium hull that is
my cage.

My periscope swings
in darkness, I don't even
understand why.
My radio speaks of silence,
I can't figure with
precision the width and depth
left behind us.

Water was clear,
I didn't see any danger;
no warning light, screaming
siren... Mermaids were
distracting my soul!
Steam bursting pipes, hands
gripped its helm, was it
too late?

This mad machine sank
in new depths, like to avoid
the wrath and blast of torpedoes.
Jellyfish laugh at my
distress; I think I lost
a propeller... can't even hear
a calling whale -
I contemplate my loneliness
through a porthole.

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