Sunday, February 11, 2007

#294: February 11, 2007

Behind a wall of crystal, where the falls
crash down like thunder over shark-tooth stone
bleached by the salt and tumult white as bone,
imprisoned there, the giant Gnorthak crawls.

Its thousand armored legs click on the glass,
searching for purchase in its flawless jail,
and all those charms of holding still will fail
to keep the brave from shivering as they pass.

For even when the cataracts there roar
and its dread form is hidden by the spray,
the Gnorthak's rasping mandibles still grate
loud enough to be heard a league away.
One day quartz shards will stud the valley floor;
you'll hear the Gnorthak scream, but far too late.

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